Paradox
by ElleSmith
Summary: It is argued that time travel must be impossible, because it can result in a paradox. It is most likely that a time traveler going back to change something in his past will only end up causing the event somehow anyway, thus completing the causality loop. If you follow this rule, then maybe you can override the loop and change the past after all. In fact, Duo is counting on it.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** GUNDAM WING is a Registered Trademark of Bandai, Sunrise, Sotsu Agency &amp; TV Asahi. This work of fiction was written for non-profitable purposes. Non-Gundam Wing related names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

**Title: **Paradox

**See my profile page for the COVER ART link. **

**Pairing: **1x2

**Summary:** It is argued that time travel must be impossible, because it can result in a paradox. Time is immutable. It is most likely that a time traveler going back to change something in his past will only end up causing the event somehow anyway, thus completing the causality loop. History cannot be changed because time will always find a way to heal itself. If you follow this rule, then maybe, just _maybe_, you can override the loop and change the past after all. In fact, Duo Maxwell is counting on it.

**Warnings:**

\- 1x2/1+2*

\- 1+R (there will be some kissing)

\- Major character's death

\- Time travel &amp; Alternate timeline

\- Slightly out of character behavior (within reason)

*** A note about the 1x2 in this story:** It is the main pairing in this story, but the plot does not center on Heero's and Duo's romantic relationship. This story is a study of how vast Duo's love towards Heero can truly be.

* **Full Disclosure:** the opening scene is inspired by and based on a scene from Grey's Anatomy s11e07.

**Author's Note I:**

This story is actually a bit silly, but only because the whole plot is based on the banal idea of time travelling which has been done to death in the fan fiction world. I don't know if this angle has been done before, because there's a lot of GW fan fiction I never got around reading, but I'm hoping that there's a shred of originality in what I wrote. Basically, it's a story about Heero dying and Duo going back in time trying save him... with a twist.

I enjoyed writing Paradox because it has been a long while since I last wrote about Heero and Duo as teenagers. I found myself thinking back a lot on my own adolescent years, trying to get into the proper mindset. It was fun. There's no way in Hell I would want to be fifteen again, but looking back with a sixteen years' worth of preservative was very insightful. Man, would I do things differently a second time around... and this is what this story is about, really: second chances.

I started writing Paradox years ago when struck with this silly idea, but couldn't make it work. Now suddenly, the pieces fell into place and I revised it completely, ending up with this story. It's not nearly as serious and deep as my previous work, just a fun piece of GW fan fiction, really. Please don't be mistaken, it's not a fluff piece or anything like that, but still fun, I promise. I just felt like screwing with the characters' lives a little before putting everything back into place...

I hope you'll enjoy the read and I would love to hear your thoughts on this, if you please, especially my portrayal of Heero, because it's really hard writing a plausible OOC.

Elle

**Author's Note II:** I am making an exception for this story by posting it before it's complete. I swore to never do this again (in fear I might never finish it), but what I fear more is that by the time I'm done writing there won't be anyone out there to read it. I have written 13 chapters so far and hopefully your R&amp;R would help me see this story to completion. If not, then this fic will just have to be like most fan fiction stories - posted whenever inspiration strikes.

Elle

* * *

**Prologue**

Late at night, New York City, Manhattan. An ambulance stopped in front of a well-lit ER entrance. Two male EMTs opened the back doors as a team of doctors approached the large emergency vehicle.

"Twenty-seven-year-old male," one of the EMTs announced and pulled out a gurney, assisted by his partner. The doctors waited readily to receive their patient.

"Jumped three stories from a burning building," the paramedic continued, "He's in shock, but awake. BP's 95 over 60 with a rate in the 120s. GCS 14 in the field."

The EMTs rolled the gurney onto the ground. It was occupied by two patients; both young men were strapped together to the gurney. They were wearing Preventer uniform; the fabric was scorched by fire and soaked with blood. One agent was laid on his back, holding the other one who was laid prone on top of him. The prone agent was sprawled lifelessly over his injured partner, his head resting on the young agent's chest. His facial features were deathly pale and streaked with smut. A heap of messy brown bangs fell over his eyes. His eyelids were closed, his lips blue and scabbed. The other agent, the one lying on his back, was awake, looking up at the starry sky with a pair of tearful cobalt blue eyes. There was an oxygen tube under his nose. His face was also streaked with soot and blood. He held onto his partner, his arms wrapped tightly around the young man's limp body.

"Why are there _two_ patients on _one_ gurney?" A middle-aged doctor, the senior of the group, asked sternly, frowning at the EMTs.

"He's dead," the other EMT said, sighing.

"Heero..." the young agent moaned sorrowfully and embraced the other man closer. The EMTs pushed the gurney inside and the doctors followed them.

"We couldn't find a pulse," the second EMT explained; "We tried to pull him off, but this one just held on," he gestured at the conscious agent. "He was agitated, got real violent. He wouldn't let him go, so we had to stop before we hurt him. This was the only way we could bring him in."

"Heero..." The young Preventer agent wept mournfully as he was wheeled into the ER. He was looking up through glassy blue eyes that didn't seem to register anything.

"Police said he carried his partner out the window and jumped to escape the explosion," the EMT continued; "We think he was trying to break his partner's fall."

"An explosion?" the middle-aged doctor asked worriedly; "Did anyone else get hurt?"

"No. Those two were the only agents at the scene."

"Alright, let's get them into trauma one," the senior doctor ordered and the team wheeled the gurney into a separate treatment room. Doctors and nurses scuttled around the gurney, making their assessments.

"His skin is mottled and cyanotic," the senior doctor determined; "We have to get this guy off of him."

A female doctor leaned over the conscious agent. Her kind brown eyes shone with sympathy when she noted how the distraught young agent was resting his hand gently over his partner's blood-clotted brown hair, petting him softly.

"Sir, you have to let him go," she said softly. The agent's eyes darted towards her. They were no longer glassy, but fierce and angry.

"No!" he cried, distressed. "No!"

"Sir, we have to move him in order to help you," the senior doctor intervened again. "There's nothing we can do for him. His neck was broken in the fall. He's dead."

"No... No!" the young man cried. "Help him! Help him... please! You gotta save him... please!"

The two doctors exchanged worried looks. The female doctor leaned closer carefully.

"Sir, what is your name?" she asked calmly.

The young agent blinked a few times, confused. "Uh, M-Maxwell..." he slurred and his eyes watered with tears; "A-Agent M-Maxwell... I... We're... Is he..?"

"Agent Maxwell, what is your partner's name?" The female doctor continued asking while her associates waited tensely to continue treatment. Two orderlies approached with a second gurney, ready to take the deceased agent away. Seeing this, Agent Maxwell began to panic and held on even tighter, clutching the other man's body tightly. He turned to her, his eyes wild, pleading.

"No... Don't take him... don't take him... help him..."

"Sir, you don't have to worry about him right now, okay? There's nothing we can do for him. Let us help you, please."

The young agent was crying openly now, his breath short and panicky. He caressed his partner's bloody hair, weeping.

"H-Heero... Is he..? Is he..? No... No... I saved him... Please... help him... make him live... please..."

"Sir, can you tell me your first name please?" the female doctor requested steadily. The young agent sniffled, nodding his head.

"D-Duo... It's... It's Duo..."

"Duo, it's time to let Heero go," she said firmly; "He's gone."

"Gone? W-What do you mean _gone?!_ He can't be gone! Heero! Heero! Wake up! C'mon! WAKE UP!"

"Duo, he died."

"No... No..." Duo shook his head in denial. "No! No! Check again! Check again! He... he... I... I... he can't... can't be... gone..."

"He's gone. I'm sorry."

"Heero... no..."

"You did everything you could."

"No! No..."

"You tried your best. You held him, protected him and he died in your arms."

"No..." Duo moaned, crying, "Heero... no..."

The senior doctor stepped in again. "He's no longer in any pain, Duo," he said, "but _you_ are and I'm sure he wouldn't want you to be. You have to let him go now so we can help you, okay?"

"He's... he's my... he's mine." Duo cried, shaking strongly but holding onto Heero anyway. "I can't. No..."

"Duo," the female doctor rebuked softly; "Duo, I'm so sorry," she placed her latex-gloved hand over his arm gently and looked sadly into his eyes. "It's time. Let Heero go."

"But I... I... I love him... I shoulda... I... I shoulda saved him... we jumped... he shoulda... he... he shoulda made it! He... he... I... I haffta save him... please... please... save him... you gotta save him... please..."

"Duo, please. He wouldn't want you to suffer. Let us help you. I know you love him, but you have to let him go. There's nothing more you can do. You can't save him."

He looked at her, as lost as a small child.

"I... I tried..." he mumbled, weeping.

"I know you did. It's time to let go."

"I haffta to save him... I... Oh God... there's gotta be a way... please... Heero..."

Sobbing, Duo finally let go. His arms dropped limply to the sides and a pained whimper escaped his lips. He closed his eyes, sobbing quietly.

The medical staff rolled Heero's body off of him, placing him in the second gurney and wheeled him aside. The rest of the staff immediately pounced onto their still living patient, assessing the injuries.

"Airway's intact, but there's a little soot."

"Hypotensive and a rigid abdomen."

"Pupils are equal and reactive bilaterally."

"Right lower leg is tense and swollen."

"I'm going to measure compartment pressures..."

Meanwhile, the female doctor stepped over to the second gurney and checked for a pulse. Once she confirmed there was none, she pronounced:

"Time of death – two twenty four AM."


	2. Act One - Part 1

**Author's Note:** Posting Part 1 just to give you a taste of things... Hope you'll enjoy.

Elle

* * *

**Act One**

**Part 1:**

Darkness. A restless ocean rustled in the background. The gentle echoing of waves resonated through him like the soothing echo of a seashell placed against his ear. A salty ocean breeze swept by, tousling his hair and tickling his nose. The sand beneath him was wet, cold. He lay on his back against the hard yet comfortable surface, the pleasant autumn sun washing over his face as clouds drifted up above, obscuring and revealing sunlight as they pleased.

The perfect calm was interrupted by a persistent vibration in his pocket. He kept his eyes closed and moved his arm against the cool sand. He reached into his jeans and pulled a small smartphone device from his pocket. A pair of Prussian blue eyes opened sluggishly. He blinked, blinded by the hazy white brightness all around him. He brought the small phone above his face and squinted against the bright cloudy sky until his vision focused on the phone. A textbox was highlighted on the main screen:

_CalAlarm_

_2 Sep. AC 195_

_Practice 15:30_

_Dismiss / Snooze_

He hit _'Dismiss'_ and shoved the phone back into his jeans' pocket, sighing. Rolling over to his side, wet sand smearing over his plain clothes as he turned, he snatched his backpack off the ground and used the momentum of the turn to jump to his feet. His long legs were lean but strong; the well-toned limbs of an athlete. He dusted moist sand off his bright-blue-denim jeans and threw the backpack's strap over his shoulder. Sand was stuck to his messy brown hair, falling in chunks as he turned to walk away, leaving the secluded strip of beach. He trudged towards the thick Indian-grass kissing the sand where the beach ended and the hills rose high above the shore.

His hair was cut short, but messy; the front just a tad longer than acceptable. It was a boyish hairdo that hid his eyes from sight, which was exactly the point. He liked it this way, the shelter. Stubborn grains of sand clung to his tangled and unruly locks. Using one hand, he ruffled the hair at the back of his head roughly as he walked, trying to shake as much sand out of it as he could.

The pristine beach was encompassed by an endless row of rolling glacial hills covered with tall bluestem and switch grass. The towering phragmites and beach-grass bended in the wind, folding in waves mirroring the ocean below. Gray autumn sunlight filtering through the grayish-white clouds above painted a gloomy picture which only added to the sheer beauty of the place. This was his favorite spot on the island. It was such a visceral experience to be lying on that cold hard sand, letting the ocean air engulf you. He could almost blend with it, phasing out of existence.

He climbed up a steep hill, panting quietly as he trampled the tall grass. When he reached the top he stopped, turning to face the ocean. Raging bluish-gray waters surged in foamy white currents as far as the eye could see. Towering bluffs stretched along the seashore. The rock-face was stunning; the display of rustic yellowish and reddish earth-tones was one of its kind on the island. It looked like fire dancing on the cliff-face. Some said it was because the beach was haunted, marked by the devil himself. The perfect panoramic beach at the bottom of the colorful moraines felt either like the edge of the world, or a jumping-off point to something new and unknown. It was his own little private corner of the world, a bridge between his life on the island and whatever lay out there, beyond the sea.

There was life on the island, and there was the life beyond. His life was divided perfectly into two halves: before the island, and after. One was a nightmare, the other still felt like a dream. He was never certain which was which. He had been there once, in the great beyond. Far away from the island. Far across the ocean and waves, way beyond the clouds and sky. He knew what lay beyond the boundaries of the island... he knew it wasn't safe. Life Before was never safe. Life on the island was safe, dull. Which one was the nightmare?

Tearing his pensive gaze away from the stormy ocean, he turned to face inland. A large green meadow spread before him, grass swaying with the cold wind. He zipped up his navy-blue nylon jacket. It was very windy uphill. A narrow road split the wide green plain, running along the coastline. He walked to the bumpy old motorway and picked up a pair of mountain-bicycle that was laid at the side of the road. He mounted the bike, secured his backpack over his shoulders and cycled away, speeding past green plains and gray beaches below.

Block Island was only about 13 miles off the coasts of Rhode Island and Long Island, only an hour away by ferry to the mainland, but it still felt like the edge of the world. Only about a thousand people lived on the island. The rest of it was set aside for nature conservations, having been listed as one of "The Last Great Places". The town of New Shoreham, which was coextensive with the island, was the least-populous municipality in the state. It was a sought-after summer tourist destination, always bustling with people during the summer months. The Summer People found its beauty bucolic, but to him it always felt elegiac; bleak and numb.

It was a small town, and it always felt so brutally _bright_, even when the skies were overcast. There was no place to hide, not much room for privacy or anonymity. Everyone pretty much knew everyone amongst the locals. You could only get lost in the crowds during the summer, when the island was flooded with tourists. For them, the island was a summer town – wild and exciting. To him, it was normal, quiet. It was home. The cultural and socioeconomic rift between locals and visitors was about the most interesting thing to ever happen on the island and it only lasted for about three months a year. Once summer was over the island geared down and closed up in preparation for the harsh winter. As the weather became windy, cold, blustery and rainy, people struggled to make a living and the glamorous days of summer became nothing but a distant memory in a dreary gray routine.

Come September first, the tourists left and the island became numb once again. He preferred it that way. Summertime was the worse. He was much more comfortable during the colder months of the year, when the Atlantic Ocean was gray and rampant, its wildness beckoning him to its deserted shores where only dozens of ancient shipwrecks were there to keep him company.

But autumn also signaled the opening of the school year; today was the first day of school. He was a sophomore now, starting 10th grade. Block Island's School educated about 130 students in total, from kindergarten through senior year. There were only seven students in his class; the same group of kids he was destined to share a classroom with from the day he came to live on the island until graduation day. He has known them since second grade, though he could hardly call them his friends. He didn't have any friends. No one wanted to be friends with the_ New Kid_ and it more or less stayed that way throughout the years. He didn't mind. People weren't really his thing.

In a futile attempt to try and help him connect with his peers, his dad signed him up for the sports team a few years back. The Block Island Hurricanes competed in three main sports, each played during different seasons. In the fall, they played soccer. Winter was basketball and spring was baseball. He hated all of them, but he supposed that if he had to pick a lesser evil it would be basketball. He used to play it with his dad in the back yard when he was a kid, so it was okay, kind of.

Right now, he was headed for soccer practice. Correction – _running late_ for soccer practice. There was a big Coastal Prep League game coming up and Coach was pressing them for extra practice. He didn't mind the strenuous sports activity, it kept him in shape, but he didn't like all the stupid pep-talk and rallying around the silly game. The BI Canes were just a stupid way to get people on the island all worked up over nothing. Varsity Soccer wasn't all that anyway. He was a good athlete, but that didn't necessarily mean that he liked playing team sports. He only did it just to pass the time, really, and to keep his dad from ranting on and on about how he should go out more and make friends instead of sitting in front of his computer all day long.

The teams were co-ed, but there weren't any girls in the junior-high classes while he was a ninth grader, so it was an all-boys' team up until now. As a sophomore, he was a part of the high-school team, which consisted of sophomores, juniors and seniors, so there were two girls on the team. His dad joked about him finally getting a chance to date, but those girls were older, and up until recently even taller than him; he has only just begun a growth spurt, which was a real nuisance because his muscles always ached as they tried to catch up with his rapidly growing bones. Puberty was a real bitch.

And besides – he didn't _date_.

Heading into town, he drove down Center Road on the way to school, passing by Block Island State Airport. It was a small airport, consisting of only two runways, a medium-sized hangar and an old New England style building that served as a terminal, surrounded by large green fields of grass. The American Flag flapped proudly at the front of the small gray building; a United Earth Sphere Alliance flag dangled below it. It was a general aviation airport with non-scheduled air transport operations for remuneration or hire. Small planes were scattered across its grounds. One was taking off as he rode his bike past the airfield. It was a small white Cessna taking off into the cloudy gray skies.

His dad worked as a pilot-for-hire, flying a Cessna much like the one that just flew by. His father was very busy during the summer, when tourists booked flights for travel or leisure, but during the fall when work on the island became scarce, he usually made rounds for New England Airlines, which offered regularly scheduled 12-minute flights from Westerly, Rhode Island. He was away a lot during the colder months of the year, flying supplies and whatever other odd jobs he could find so he could "put food on the table", as he said. For some reason, that was a real issue with his dad and he often wondered if it meant that he came from an underprivileged background.

He didn't mind, he was used to being alone. His dad has been gone for over a week now and was only due back tomorrow. He promised to make it back in time for the first day of school, but something came up. That was okay. He didn't need his dad to hold his hand on the first day of school; he never did. He never needed anyone to hold his hand for anything. He was fine on his own.

Block Island's School was a small red-bricked building with a plain brown rooftop and a white clock tower suitable of old New England architecture. He parked his bike by the large green outdoor playing field. Practice was already underway. Teenagers – boys and girls alike – were running across the field dressed in red sweatshirts and matching gym shorts. He unzipped his jacket, revealing a similar red sweatshirt underneath and kicked his shoes off while throwing the jacket onto the bike. He scrambled hurriedly out of the jeans, already wearing the gym shorts underneath so he wouldn't have to waste time in the locker rooms. His soccer shoes were tied to his bike, dangling from the stem. He snatched them hastily and put them on as he walked into the play field.

"Glad you could join us!" Coach rebuked him the moment he stepped onto the wet grass. "You can start by giving me five laps," he grunted, shaking his head in disappointment. "Jesus, Heero, what the Hell am I gonna do with you, huh?"

Heero ignored him and started running around the field. Even though he had just cycled across the island, he sprinted easily through all five laps, barely breaking a sweat. There was a reason why he was Coach's star athlete; he was in excellent shape and extremely disciplined. Once done serving his penalty, he joined the team for the rest of the practice, enduring it until it was finally over.

It was dark by the time he left school. Still wearing his gym clothes, Heero went back to fetch his bike. He grabbed the handlebars and rolled the bike along with him as he made his way out of the playing field and towards the main driveway in front of the school.

A red pickup-truck stood there waiting, its engine humming loudly. Heero paused and looked at the truck, frowning. His fists curled tightly around the handlebars. He stood there for a second longer before heaving a sigh and heading towards the truck. He threw his bike in the back, slamming the tailgate forcefully. He entered at the passenger's side, threw his backpack to the floor and shut door loudly. He wasn't angry or anything; at least, he didn't think he was... why should he be?

"I thought you had to fly to Connecticut," he said quietly, never turning to face the driver. There was no accusation or bitterness in his voice. It was just a plain statement spoken in a quiet monotonous voice. Those were probably the first words he had said all day, perhaps all week, since his dad went off to work on the mainland.

"I thought so too," the driver confirmed, "but the client cancelled," he grumbled irately and shifted the truck into gear. They drove off. Heero looked out the passenger window, gazing numbly at the sleepy old town.

"So you're home?" he asked, never tearing his eyes off the window as the town of New Shoreham passed by.

"Yeah, looks like it."

He finally turned to face the driver; a man in his mid-thirties dressed in worn-out blue jeans and a ragged black-leather jacket that were better suited for a guy in his twenties. Then again, his father was anything but conventional, from his unusual name to his eccentric thigh-length braid. Heero eyed the chestnut-brown rope resting over his dad's shoulder and his eyes narrowed with disdain. Why would a grown man sport such long hair anyway? And why wear it in a _braid?_ That was so gay, it was _embarrassing_.

"For how long?" He asked and his dad sighed tiredly.

"I got this gig comin' up next week, so... a few days, I guess," he said. "Then I'm off to pick up this fancy _dick_ moving into the island or whatever... some rich guy who won't be bothered taking the ferry with the rest of us _commoners_. But it's good money, so... yeah. How was practice?"

Heero turned back to face the window. "Fine."

"When's the big game?"

"Next week."

"Oh man... please don't say Monday."

"...okay."

His father grimaced and turned to him with a guilty face. "Damn... I'm so sorry, Heero," he said, placing a warm hand over his shoulder. He turned to him, studying the man's face quietly. He really did look like he felt bad about missing the game.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna haffta miss it," his dad apologized softly.

"It's okay," Heero mumbled and turned to look out the window again.

"No, it's not," his father muttered guilty. "I should be there. I'm sorry."

"I don't care, really."

His father sighed quietly, as he often did when faced with his indifference. A typical fifteen-year-old, he was often accused of being apathetic, insolent and disdainful. But Heero didn't care what anyone thought. They could all drop dead for all he cared. His guidance teacher often scolded him for wasting his potential and keeping his grades at a bearable level, even though he was capable of so much more. She didn't get it and he didn't care to explain. All he wanted was to be left alone.

His dad released a weary sigh and reached to change gears. His movements were slow, tired all of a sudden. Heero studied the man's face carefully. Sometimes he feared that he was pushing it a bit too far. One day, his dad would finally get sick and tired of him and leave. Everyone did eventually. He inhaled shakily and turned his gaze out the passenger window, gazing wretchedly at the darkness cloaking the island.

They were heading up Corn Neck Road, just past the Great Salt Pond, where the land narrowed to a few dozen feet of soil; a bottle neck of sorts connecting the main landmass to a smaller, more secluded part of Block Island. They were driving along the coast now, the ocean flanking them from both sides of the road. At night, it looked like they were driving on the edge of nothing. There was nothing but black as far as the eye could see.

There were fewer houses on this part of the island, mostly ranches. They lived in a small farmhouse just off of Corn Neck Rd, overlooking the wide Great Salt Pond, a round and almost entirely enclosed body of water separating the north and south regions of the island. He could see it through his bedroom window. It was nice.

"How was the first day of school?" His father picked up the useless conversation after a while.

"Fine," he mumbled, gazing numbly out the window.

"Yeah? How's sophomore life treating you?"

"Pretty much the same."

"Meet any new friends?"

"Why?" He turned to glare spitefully at his father. "Are there any new people on the island?" he retorted nastily and his dad turned to scowl at him.

"I'm just trying to make conversation."

"Don't bother," Heero muttered and crossed his arms over his chest. He turned to glare out the window, watching as they drove past a few desolate farmhouses. His farther turned the truck off of the main road and onto a narrow dirt road. The ride became a bit bumpy and Heero bounced a little in his seat. Looking out the windshield, he could see their old country house looming up ahead.

"I'm thinking pot-roast for dinner," his father suddenly declared with a smile, as though dinner was any reason to celebrate. He usually skipped dinner when his dad wasn't around. He wasn't hungry anyway.

"Sounds good?"

"I guess."

"Or we can eat out if you want," his dad offered.

"Yeah, okay."

"Yeah? What do you feel like having?"

"I don't know. Pot-roast is fine too."

Frustrated, his father shook his head, heaving a sigh. "I'll figure something out," he muttered and pulled into the driveway. Heero stepped out of the truck and went to retrieve his bike.

* * *

**To be continued (soon)**

What did you think of this so far?

I am making an exception for this story by posting it before it's complete. I swore to never do this again (in fear I might never finish it), but what I fear more is that by the time I'm done writing there won't be anyone out there to read it. I have written 13 chapters so far and hopefully your R&amp;R would help me see this story to completion. If not, then this fic will just have to be like most fan fiction stories - posted whenever inspiration strikes.

Elle


	3. Act One - Part 2

**Author's Note:** Just in case Winter Storm Juno is threatening to ruin your plans for the day and you're settling in for a cozy snow day at home, I thought I'd share some reading material to pass the time...

Also, I would like to thank the kind readers who reviewed this story so far. You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you.

Elle

* * *

**Paradox**

**Act One - Part 2:**

Ocean waves washed upon an unspoiled beach encompassed by spectacular bluffs. Heero lay on his back, spread-eagle across the cold sand, his eyes closed as he listened to the swooshing of the sea. His expression was blank rather than serene. A soft breeze tousled his unruly bangs, swaying the chocolate-brown hair from side to side. His schoolbag was laid tossed next to him, a large golden trophy thrown against it, discarded for lack of care.

They won the game 3-2. The BI Canes were now the CPL's tournament champions. He had personally scored two out of the three goals that brought them the championship and therefore Coach decided that he got to take the trophy home "for a spin". Yeah, like he cared. He considered chucking the damn thing off a cliff and into the ocean just so he won't have to take it home and have his dad see it. The idiot probably won't shut up about it, acting all proud and shit. Whatever. He will bring the trophy back to school tomorrow. He didn't need it.

The whole town celebrated the victory last night. He just went home the minute the ferry docked into the harbor. He didn't call his dad to tell him about the win; he'll probably hear all about it when he comes back. It was all people talked about. He could imagine how they will praise him when talking to his father; he cringed just thinking about it. People were so annoying. They wouldn't leave him alone at school today. By morning recess he got so sick of it that he just took his bike and split. He spent the day at the beach, enjoying the silence.

His perfect sense of seclusion was interrupted by a loud roar of a jet engine. He opened his eyes, faced with a gloomy gray sky, and sat up quickly, leaning against the sand. His eyes searched the clouds above, but whatever aircraft had passed over him just now was most likely high above cloud-level. He let his gaze drop towards the murky ocean, and frowned warily.

A massive battleship was sailing in the near horizon.

_That_ was new.

Again the sound of whirring jet engines thundered across the beach. This time, he could make out two black spots speeding towards the large ship. Mobile suits? All the way out here in the edge of nowhere?

They looked a lot like the OZ-07AMS Aries, built expressly for aerial combat. With its pair of jet engines and aerodynamic control surfaces, the Aries was fully capable of independent atmospheric flight. They were also one of the first transformable mobile suits capable of folding its legs up into its body for flight. Even when compared to an OZ-06MS Leo – which he was much fonder of – using a flight backpack, the Aries was still inferior in terms of speed and armor thickness, although it could maintain flight for much longer periods of time. It would be the perfect MS for a large-scale aerial scouting mission.

He was kind of a mecha-nerd. He knew everything there was to know about mobile suits after spending many hours online reading about them. The Aries used to serve as the primary aerial force of the Alliance for nearly twenty years, as well as OZ's special forces, but now that OZ has more or less turned against the Alliance, it was hard to tell if the Aries suits he just saw were OZ or Allied Forces.

He didn't quite follow the news so he wasn't certain who had the upper hand at the moment. The war has been raging for over a year now and at some point OZ military forces started a coup d'état against the Alliance, trying to overthrow the United Earth Sphere Alliance government and put some other bunch of _idiots _in power. Then there were those Gundams sent from space to fight against both or something like that. They've been raising havoc on Earth since last spring. It was all pretty complicated and he really didn't care because the war was just something vague that happened _out there_, way beyond the island. Nothing ever happened on the island.

He watched the two Aries suits land on the flight deck. Silence fell again. The ominous battleship continued circling the island.

* * *

His father was unusually quiet during dinner. He didn't even say anything about the trophy. They sat in the dining room, which always felt too large for only two people and even more desolate when illuminated dimly at night. It was very quiet and the sound of cutlery clanking softly against their plates was painfully loud.

"How was that thing with the rich guy?" Heero finally asked, looking up from his plate. His father sat at the other side of the hefty wooden table, shoving food around his plate with his fork. It took him a moment to realize he had been asked a question.

"Hmm?" he asked, looking up. He then seemed to process what he had been asked.

"Oh, it was good. No biggie," he mumbled and resumed eating. "They settled in the old Thomson's house. Really pimped that old crib."

Heero nodded in acknowledgement and continued eating in silence. He really didn't have anything to say about that. Usually his dad was the one to make conversation. His silence made Heero uneasy.

"How was school?" His dad asked after a while.

Heero shrugged dismissively. "Okay, I guess."

"Yeah?" His father looked at him sternly. "Then why did I haffta make an excuse for you cutting classes in the middle of the day?"

Heero cast his gaze down to his plate again. "You know about that?" he mumbled ruefully, poking his food with the fork.

"Your principal called. Wanted to make sure you're alright."

"I'm fine."

"Where were you all day?"

"Around."

His dad sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Don't run off like that. I hate it when you go AWOL."

"This place is 7000 acres big and surround by a fucking _ocean_," he muttered in dismay; "where could I _possibly_ go?"

"Don't get snippy with me, Heero. It's been a long day and I ain't in the mood."

"Yeah well, no one forced you to do any _parenting_ today, _Duo_. I know how to take care of myself."

His dad slammed his fork and fist on the table. "I told you a thousand times, Heero – I don't approve of you using my name like that. I know I ain't your real father, but I deserve at least that much. Show some respect."

Heero gaped at him, stunned. It was very rare for Duo to snap at him like that; he must have struck a raw nerve. He bowed his head down, staring meekly at his plate.

They continued eating in tense silence. After a while, Heero raised his head again and looked at his dad carefully. He hesitated, trying to find a way to bring up the next touchy subject.

"We have a school excursion next week," he said slowly, knowing he was threading on thin ice. "I need you to sign a permission slip."

His dad turned to look at him, frowning warily. "Where are you guys going?"

"The Museum of Natural History," Heero mumbled tensely.

"New York City?" his dad asked in dismay.

Heero nodded slowly; he could already see the answer in Duo's eyes. His dad didn't even stop to think about it. "No," he said and turned back to his plate, spearing food brutally with his fork. "Sorry, Heero, not this year."

"But it's for this science class in school," he insisted and his father heaved a frustrated sigh.

"My answer is still no."

"But it's only a school-trip... It's not like they'll let us do anything fun."

"Regardless, I'm still saying no."

"But—"

"No more _buts_," Duo snapped irately. "This isn't open for negotiation. I said no and that's my final answer. Don't test me on this one," he warned; "I'm your father and what I say sticks."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask you to raise me," Heero grumbled petulantly.

Duo snorted nastily. "Right," he scoffed; "I suppose I shoulda just left you to live on the streets of that colony? An eight-year-old with an _attitude_. I'm sure you woulda done _great_ for yourself!"

Heero cast his eyes down, subdued, and Duo sighed wearily.

"Jesus, Heero... what's gotten into you lately?" he whined, frustrated. "It's like you woke up one morning and decided to be a total _dick_. Since when did you become such a handful, huh?"

"Since you won't let me do _anything!_" Heero snapped and slammed his plate angrily on the table.

"I let you do whatever you fucking want!" Duo shouted back; "I have no _fucking idea_ what you do all day!"

"Anything but go off this _stupid _island!" Heero retorted loudly, standing up.

"And where would you fucking go?" His dad scoffed sarcastically. "Back to space? Back to all the _shit_ you had going on before?"

"Just _shut up_," Heero muttered nastily and stomped out of the dining room. He ran upstairs to his room and slammed the door behind him loudly. He threw himself on the bed, angry with the world.

He hated being reminded of his life _before_. He recalled very little of what life was like before Duo, but what he did remember was enough to make him wish he didn't. His earliest memories were those of fear and blood. He had spent half his childhood being raised by a man who utilized him as a weapon and nothing more, trained as an apprentice in the art of assassination, sabotage and stealth. It was a ruthless and painful life. No room for error. His every mistake was met with brutal punishment. Heero refrained from thinking about it as much as he could. The past could not be changed, but it could still be ignored. He hated it when his dad reminded him of _Before_. He hated that no matter how angry he was with the man who became his adoptive father, he could never stay angry for long when reminded that if Duo hadn't shown up after Odin died, his life would probably still be full of torment. Duo had saved his life, and he owed him more than he could ever repay in this lifetime.

After Odin died, he was stranded on a colony still undergoing construction. He must have been about seven or eight. It was supposed to be his last mission, Odin had said. Enough, he had said; a child was dead weight. He ordered him to settle down, go to school and live a normal life. Enough killing; he would be better off in some foster home.

That would have probably been for the best, but something went wrong. Odin died during the mission. He was left to fend on his own, struggling to survive on the streets. Odin had taught him how, but there wasn't much on the colony; just the military command center. He was starving, desperate. He roamed the colony for days, searching aimlessly without knowing what he was looking for exactly; a way out, maybe. On one of his many wanderings, he passed by an alleyway. An old man sat in its shadows. He noticed him and asked him to approach. He hesitated at first, but in his despair he found that he could not refuse the old man's request. He took a step into the alley and then suddenly – Duo came. He just popped out of nowhere, coming from behind him calling: _'There you are! I've been looking all over for ya!'_

He had frowned at the strange braided young man who looked like one of the colony construction workers, dressed in the same brown jumpsuit and streaked with dirt. He was about to tell him to piss off, that he did not know him, but then Duo gave him this strange look before he leaned over him like some reprimanding parent and asked: _'What did I tell you about accepting candy from strangers?'_

He was sure that the braided man was out of his mind, but then the old man in the alley turned to Duo and asked: _'Is he with you?'_ Duo then placed a hand on his small shoulder and pulled him close to him, as if protecting him somehow. _'Yeah, he's with me, so back off ya old fart. You ain't getting your dirty claws on him this time'._

The old man seemed surprised, and so was he because until that moment he hadn't even noticed that the old man was disfigured: with a metal claw for a hand. The sight frightened him and he found himself unintentionally inching closer to the young man who still had his arm around him protectively.

_'C'mon, Heero, let's get outta here,'_ Duo said and he had turned around, looking up at the man. He realized that the man was referring to _him_, which didn't make much sense because he didn't have a name, and he didn't recall ever being called "Heero" by anyone. He was confused, so he thought back on the last thing Odin taught him before he died: _'However carefully you plan, you never know if some __**idiot**__ is going to change the future, so you may as well do what your heart tells you so you won't regret it later.'_ [[i]]

He thought he finally understood what it meant. When the curious braided young man pulled him away from the alleyway, he had followed because it felt right. And, just like that, his life with Duo began. Ever since that strange encounter by the alley, Duo has been raising him as though he was his son and there wasn't a day that went by in which Heero didn't feel that if not for Duo, he would have ended up following that metal-clawed old man, and he would have probably regretted it.

While as a natural part of raising him Duo had disciplined him as one would discipline any child, he had never done so with anger and he had never mistreated him in any way. He had been nothing but kind and understanding towards him, even when he had given him hell, testing boundaries, trying to find the limit to Duo's commitment towards him. He had done every wrong he could think of just to see how much Duo could take before he too abandons him. Duo, however, never did and Heero learned to accept the man's love and care.

Duo was a fact he could not argue with; he was there, and Heero was grateful for it. Duo taught him many things he had never known before as a child. He had taught him about fun and games; he had taught him about hugs and loving caresses; he had taught him about laughter and joy, trust and security. He was safe with Duo; safe to just be a kid, to play and to smile, to live carefree and loved.

It was very difficult to trust Duo at first. He remembered that first night, just after their strange encounter by the alley. Duo took him someplace safe, he assumed that it was some sort of residence designated for the men working on the colony's construction. He was very hungry after days of starvation on the street. Duo made him soup from a can. He wolfed it down hurriedly. Then he felt sleepy so Duo took him to bed. He covered him tightly and sat down on the edge of the bed, simply looking at him with this strange look in his eyes. He stared back at Duo silently, unable to close his eyes to sleep. He rubbed them tiredly, wishing to sleep, however fear would not allow him to relax. He stared at the stranger sitting by his side, wondering what the man was expecting of him. Did he have to work for him now that Odin was gone?

Duo reached a careful hand to brush a few hairs out of his eyes. The soft caress startled him; he tensed fearfully under the bedcovers. Duo must have realized that he was making him nervous, so he pulled his hand away, smiling apologetically. The loss of the soft hand saddened him; no one has ever petted his hair before and he feared that now Duo won't dare to do it again.

_'It's okay,'_ Duo had whispered softly, _'You can sleep. I won't harm you, Heero',_ he promised.

_'I'm not Heero,'_ he whispered back, thinking that the man must have mistaken him for someone else, because he couldn't think of any other reason for receiving such kindness. Duo just smiled and nodded in understanding.

_'Is there another name you'd like me to call you by?'_ he asked. There was none, so he shook his head 'no'.

_'Then Heero it is,'_ Duo declared, smiling. He couldn't think of a reason to refuse the new name, so he just nodded back in agreement, accepting it.

_'What's yours?'_ he dared to ask, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He wasn't sure why, but hearing the man tell him his name had calmed him somehow. Duo asked if it was okay if he'd pet his hair again, to help him fall asleep. He agreed and Duo had smiled. It was the best sleep he ever had, even to this day. He had finally realized what it felt like to be safe; to sleep calmly without being afraid. It didn't take long for Duo to teach him what it felt like to be loved as well.

He knew that he owed Duo his life; he felt guilty for giving the man a hard time. However, ever since the war reached Earth and those damn Gundams appeared, Duo hasn't been the same. Something changed. Heero couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was wrong with Duo. He didn't know what to do about it. He was just trying to be a normal kid now, putting his past as far behind him as he possibly could.

Over the past seven years he had settled comfortably into his newly regained life. He tried to enjoy being just a kid and Duo being his... well his... his dad, sort of. Kind of. Almost. He would have liked it to be official somehow, but it wasn't. Duo and he didn't exist outside the trail of papers Duo created for them. In essence, their life was a lie.

He sat up and stared numbly at his room, at all the stuff he had accumulated over the years. His life used to be his only possession. The breath in his lungs was all he really had, but it still meant very little. Life came cheap. It was as easy to create as it was easy to terminate; Odin had shown him how. There wasn't much value in possessing life, not when it was all you had. But since Duo took him in his life was given substance; it meant something to someone. Suddenly, he had more than he could ever dream of. His father has spared him nothing. There were days when he was sure Duo didn't have a penny in his pocket, but he still managed to satisfy his every childish whim.

His eyes fell on a ragged penguin doll resting by his computer monitor. The old stuffed toy stared back at him blankly with a pair of tiny black button eyes. Heero smiled weakly.

Manny the Penguin and he went way back. It was the first toy his dad ever got him. When they had first arrived on Earth, they lived in a short-term apartment complex in New York City, until his dad bought the house on the island. One day Duo took him to Central Park Zoo. It was absolutely breath taking! He was fascinated by all the different animals. He had never seen any wildlife before and kept running from one habitat to another, pointing at the animals eagerly, asking _'what's this one called?',_ _'what's this one?' _and – when he saw a Giraffe – _'Wow! What's __**this**__ one called?!'. _He was just like a kid in a candy store, only the store was that whole fucking world.

His dad took him to see the penguins' exhibit and that was the best part. He stood there the longest, watching the funny little black and white birds swim underwater, enchanted that instead of flying, the swam. He liked them so much that his dad bought him a stuffed toy penguin. Duo promised that they'd have many, _many_, more fun days like that day at the zoo, so Heero decided to call his new toy Manny.

That night, when his dad tucked him to bed, Duo had placed Manny next to him. He didn't understand why, so Duo said that it might be nice to sleep with such a cute and cuddly toy, so he tried. It was the first time he had slept with a toy by his side. It felt really weird, but he did it to make his dad happy. After a while, it became a habit and eventually he found that he couldn't quite manage to fall asleep without hugging Manny, holding onto Duo's promise while he slept.

Looking away from the little penguin doll leaning against his computer monitor, Heero ran his eyes over the rest of the room.

His colorful and vast comic book collection filled the shelves of a tall bookcase in front of him. Flashy posters decorated the blue walls with images of various vintage sci-fi movies. Science fiction was a dead genre, redundant in the age of space colonization, but he liked it. He liked how people used to see their future prior to the After Colony era; those movies represented different versions of mankind's future, imagined when everything was still a possibility. He found it fascinating, for it allowed him to picture a whole other life. His dad didn't get it, but he still brought home a copy of some old sci-fi flick whenever he stumbled upon one during his travels. They used to watch them together up until a couple of years ago, but now he just watched them alone in his room.

His room was a testament to his freedom; a sanctuary. It was the only place where it was okay to be himself – no inhibitions. An impressive collection of MS models stood proudly on a shelf above his desk. His dad grumbled that he wasted all of his allowance on those "damn things", but he liked them. He even got a job last summer, working in a small ice-cream parlor at the beach, just so he won't have to depend on the allowance his dad gave him and buy a very rare collector's-item kit: the old OZ-06MS-SN3 Leo-N model from the late AC 70s.

Leos were simple, but efficient; they had their own kind of charm. They've been in service for so long because of their adaptability: in addition to a wide variety of hand weapons, the Leo could be outfitted with a winged thruster pack for limited atmospheric flight capability. That entails some respect.

The old 06MS was his most prized possession. Placing the winning bid on the thing had been a major _nergasm _moment... not that he'd ever admit to it. Still, it was too bad he didn't have anyone to celebrate the win with (aside from a few online "friends"). His dad would never get it, because he never dared divulge anything about his life _Before_. He didn't do it to spite him, he just wanted to forget; maybe then it would be like it never happened.

He used to have a similar old Leo model when he was very little. He wasn't sure why he played with an MS model as toddler, but it was the only thing he remembered from before Odin, from before _Before_. It wasn't easy getting his hands on a mint-condition model just like his old one, and once he did he ignored all reason and took it out of the box so he could build it and place it on the shelf next to the others. He had every model in the book, except one. The latest MS model to make an appearance on the battlefield was banned by Earth manufacturers.

Heero turned to look at his computer. It was always on; the monitor currently displaying an internet browser open on a social network website and forums. A few IM windows were open as well, flashing to call for his attention. He was looking for one of those underground Gundam kits, only available through networking with the right people. Those illicit kits were amateur-made and _extremely _rare. Getting his hands on one was close to impossible, but he liked a challenge. Having one on his shelf would be the pinnacle of this dull, mundane, little life. It was all he had to go on, really.

This was his life now. And, considering what might have been the alternative, he knew that he should be grateful for it. Real or fake, it was still a good life. He was free to be a kid, complete with nerdy hobbies and boring schoolwork. That was enough for most, so why did he always feel like there should have been something _more?_

* * *

He dropped off the trophy at the principal's office before heading for class. He settled into his seat in the far back of the classroom. First period was math. He liked math. It was easy, methodical. It made sense. Every problem had a solution if you followed the rules. He sat quietly, hunched over his notebook, and concentrated on solving the exercise written on the whiteboard. He finished it rather quickly, so he tried to think of a different way of solving it instead of the method they had just been taught. He came up with two different approaches and solved the problem again, twice.

"Class," the teacher called for their attention. Heero finished the second solution he had come up with and only then looked up. He frowned when he noted that there was a new student standing in front of the class, next to the teacher. He was so focused on the math problem that he didn't even notice someone entering the classroom – a new face: a _girl_. She was wearing a white tailored blouse with a fancy bow-collar and a pinkish-red flared skirt. They looked expensive; a goody-two-shoes dress. Her long dishwater-blonde hair was half-down and half-up, gathered into a fine lace braid crowning her head. She was looking ahead at the class with a pair of glowering turquoise-blue eyes.

"I'd like to introduce you to a new student joining our class this year," the teacher said, gesturing at the girl to step forward. She took a small step towards the classroom, curtseying in front of the class. A few kids snickered. Heero cocked his head aside slightly, intrigued. She wasn't from around here, was she?

"Relena Darlian," the girl introduced herself quietly and straightened back up. "It's nice to meet you."

"Thank you, Relena," the teacher said. "You may take a seat. There's one at the end of the classroom."

Heero whirled his head over to his right, alarmed. The only vacant seat in the room was the one next to him. He had just lost single ownership of the empty row in the back. Damn it.

He watched the New Girl settle into the empty chair-desk. He must have been gaping like an idiot, because she turned to him, scowling crossly. _Snob._ Her eyes were fierce, angry. He looked away, turning back to his notebook and scowled deeply. He didn't like her.

**To be continued... (soon)**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

...and the plot thickens!

I would love to hear your thoughts on this so far.

Elle

* * *

[i] Episode Zero manga.


	4. Act One - Part 3

**Author's Note: **I would like to emphasize that I am using the anime as a reference when trying to pin-point how Heero's absence might have affected the way things played out when he was a Gundam pilot. I know that in the "Glory of the Losers" manga Heero was the one responsible for Relena's adoptive-father's death, but I am sticking to the anime.

**Thank you so much for your reviews!**

Elle

* * *

**Act One**

**Part 3:**

School could not have been over soon enough for Heero. The minute the bell rang at the end of the day he hurried to fetch his bike, planning on heading for the beach, but then the principal caught him in the driveway and asked if he was feeling better today. His dad must have told the man that he had fallen ill and therefore cut classes yesterday. He mumbled something about still being a bit under the weather but otherwise fine and the man let him go on his way. He climbed on the bike, ready to head out, but then _Coach_ suddenly approached him with this big speech about how they're all counting on him for the next big game and Heero had to suffer through the unwelcomed pep-talked for a few good minutes before finally leaving school.

Riding along the tall bluffs, he could see the battleship anchored in the not-so-faraway waters. He could not tear his eyes off of it. There was an undeniable allure to its menacing presence.

His beach was all the way across the island. He left his bicycle at the side of the road, lying against the soft tall-grass, and hiked down towards the beach. Once his feet touched the grayish sand, he noted a second pair of footsteps on the otherwise unspoiled beach. He looked around, glaring angrily as he searched for the intruder.

The _New Girl_ was sitting on the moist sand a few dozen feet away, hugging her knees, which were drawn up to her chest, and gazing out at the raging ocean.

Out of all the beaches on Block Island – all 17 miles-long of them! – she had to pick _his?_

"You're in my spot," he accused viciously once he was standing over her. The girl didn't tear her gaze away from the water as she retorted:

"I wasn't aware that this was a private beach."

"It used to be..." he muttered quietly, annoyed. He sat down, not too close, and turned to look out at the sea, his eyes finally fixing in on the battleship.

They sat in awkward silence, watching the waves as the sun melted into the ocean, shedding warm golden light on the colorful cliff-face behind them. At sundown, the rustic earth colors of yellow, red, orange and brown looked even more like burning flames. This was when the beach was most beautiful.

Heero gathered a fistful of sand in his hand, grinding it between his fingers for a while before throwing it towards the water. The girl turned to look at him, curious.

"You don't talk much, do you?" She finally asked.

He picked up more wet sand, balling it in his fist, and threw it away. It crashed a few feet from the water, shattering.

"I don't come here to talk," he mumbled quietly and she smiled. It was the saddest smile he had ever seen.

"I guess not," she agreed and turned to look at the water again, sighing. She drew her legs closer to her chest, hugging them tightly as she rested her chin down against them. Heero studied her for a moment, noting how the wind tousled her long blonde hair. His gaze traveled to her hands, wrapped around her bended knees. They were delicate white hands, pristine and well-manicured; like royalty.

His eyes then unintentionally traveled downwards, looking at where the fabric of her reddish skirt has fallen against the sand, exposing a pair of smooth white thighs drawn up against her slim torso. Her white blouse was nearly see-thru; he could make out the faint outlines of her white-lace bra. Her round bosoms were squeezed against her bent thighs. He swallowed and looked away nervously, turning to watch the ocean instead. He focused on the battleship, trying to ignore her.

They sat side by side without exchanging another word, until the sun sunk completely into the sea. Night cloaked the beach with a blanket of chilly darkness.

"Come on," he said, standing up; "I'll walk you home."

She turned to him, still seated. "I don't need a _bodyguard_," she snapped.

"It's easy to get lost around here," he argued; "And it's getting dark."

The girl frowned at him for a moment before obliging.

"Fine," she muttered and stood up, dusting moist sand off her long legs and skirt. He considered offering her a hand, but quickly dismissed the silly notion. They walked back towards the grassy hillside, climbing up silently. Relena let him escort her home. He grabbed his bike, holding it by the handlebars and rolling it along with him as they walked down the winding road leading further away from town, to the other side of the island where she lived. It was a long walk which passed in pure silence.

Finally, they reached a large white Victorian-style mansion on top of a tall moraine overlooking the ocean – the old Thomson's house. She stopped at the gate leading into the impressive driveway and turned to him with a polite smile.

"Thank you," she said and turned to open the large iron-wrought gate. "I'll see you at school."

He stood there for a moment and watched her walk towards the enormous and brightly illuminated estate. Once he saw her step inside, he mounted his bike and left; he had a long way ahead of him, as he pretty much lived on the other side of the island. As he cycled vigorously down the dark empty streets of New Shoreham, Heero realized that she didn't even ask for his name.

* * *

It had rained all through soccer practice. His clothes were soaked by the time it was over, the red sweatshirt clinging to his strapping torso as he ran across the muddy playing field towards the driveway. His untrimmed bangs were plastered uncomfortably over his forehead, dripping water onto his lips and nose. He was panting quietly, still catching his breath after a particularly strenuous practice. It wasn't that Coach was pushing him too hard; he just felt like giving something extra today. There was a burning in his chest that he just couldn't put out.

He ruffled his wet bangs out of his eyes, pushing them back up as he walked over to the school bike shed. He stopped, lowering his hand down slowly, when he saw the New Girl waiting for him next to the bicycle, dressed in another one of those fancy goody-two-shoes dresses – a gray one this time – and a thick elegant red pea-coat. The school day ended over four hours ago. Why was she still here?

"I watched you play," she said with a sheepish little smile. "You're very good."

He frowned warily and slowly finished his approach. He unlocked his bike from the parking rack, eyeing her carefully the whole time.

"Were you waiting for me?" he asked quietly as he turned the bicycle around, not even facing her.

"I wanted to apologize," she said.

"What for?" He turned to her, studying her face tensely. The girl didn't seem to mind his cold glare. Usually it was enough to scare people off, but not with her, it seemed.

"I didn't even ask your name," she explained apologetically.

"Heero," he said curtly and turned to mount his bike. "And there's no need to apologize." It wasn't his real name anyway, just something Duo came up with in the spur of the moment or whatever. It kind of grew on him over the years.

"I'm Relena," she said, stepping closer and offering her hand. He looked at it for a moment, but never reciprocated.

"I know," he said instead, scowling impatiently.

She smiled awkwardly. "Yeah, I suppose you do."

Heero placed both hands on the handlebars, ready to leave. He was cold and wet and he just wanted to go home already. What did she want from him?

They looked at each other edgily for a tense moment. She wasn't going to say anything, was she?

Heero sighed and placed his foot on the pedal. He pushed it forward and then finally, she spoke:

"Someone told me you're good with computers," she said and he stopped, placing his foot back on the pavement. He turned to her, frowning.

"Who?"

She shrugged. "Jeremy."

"_Jeremy?_"

"Yes, he said you helped him out when his hard-drive crashed last winter."

He scowled darkly. "Yeah, so?"

"So I... I was wondering if you could help me."

Now he was confused. "With your _computer?_"

"Sort of..." she mumbled, suddenly uneasy. She cast her eyes down, hesitating, before looking up again, determined. "He said that if anyone knew anything about hacking around here, it would be you."

"Hacking is illegal," he muttered snippily.

"But can you do it?"

"...I guess. Why should I?"

"I can pay you."

"I don't need your money," he grunted, insulted. He prepared to leave again.

"Then what do you need?" She insisted, taking a gritty step forward.

He stopped, his legs still on the pedals. His fists curled tightly around the handlebars.

"I don't know," he mumbled, looking down sadly.

"Will you at least think about it?"

"Yeah, sure," he dismissed her and rode his bicycle away, never looking back.

* * *

Heero tried to avoid Relena the next day. Even though they sat next to one another in class, he did his best to ignore her, but his gaze kept drifting sideways in her direction. He caught himself and forced his eyes to dart forward again. He tapped his pencil angrily against the wooden desk, glaring ahead at the whiteboard. That irksome burn was sizzling in his chest again. He shifted his weight uncomfortably from side to side, fidgeting in his chair. By lunchtime, he finally surrendered to temptation.

"I'll help you," he said after approaching her in the cafeteria, holding his tray as he stood by her table. She was sitting alone by a window, gazing outside broodingly and never even touching her food. She was sitting leaning over the table with her chin resting against her hand; a picture of isolation. She turned to him slowly, her face blank. He returned her intense gaze evenly.

"Meet me in the library after school," he ordered and walked away. He could feel her penetrating blue eyes on his back as he retreated. The irksome burn itching in his chest eased up a little. He had to stifle an unexplained smile as he sat down to have his lunch, alone.

* * *

She was wearing a mint-green dress today, fitted at the top, hugging her feminine curves, and flared at the bottom, reaching down to her kneecaps. She smelled nice too; he couldn't help but notice her sweet fragrance as she leaned over his shoulder to look at the computer screen. He was sitting in front of the computer in the town's public library while she stood behind him, watching intently.

"Why the library?" she whispered as she leaned towards him and he almost shivered when her breath touched his ear. He focused on the screen, glaring at it with a hard face as he tried to ignore her closeness.

"Isn't this a bit too public?" she asked anxiously, looking around. There were a few people in the library, but no one paid them any attention.

"A public IP makes it harder to track the source. It could be anyone," Heero explained as his fingers flew expertly across the keyboard. "Whoever traces this will have a thousand suspects on their hands."

"I see."

She drew the chair from the computer next to them and sat down, ironing the folds on her mint-green skirt. He couldn't help but notice her delicate French-manicured fingers as they glided over the soft fabric. He hurried to look at the monitor again. He should really get a grip already! So what if she was the first girl his age he has ever met and she smelled so ni— shit. He shook his head, scowling at his own stupid teenage mindset, and concentrated on the job.

"I'm in," he declared after a while and punched a few more keys on the keyboard. He turned to her tensely. "Now what?"

Relena turned to study the screen. It was a database titled "United Earth Sphere Alliance Intelligence Bureau".

"Look up _'Sanc Kingdom'_," she whispered, lowering her gaze covertly to the floor.

Heero frowned. "What's that?" he asked and turned back to the keyboard.

"Just some place that no longer exists," she mumbled.

"Shouldn't this information be public domain?"

"Not the part I'm looking for," she said, sighing. "Believe me, I looked. Just look it up, okay?"

"Fine," he muttered and entered the search words into the database. Dozens of search results popped up.

"You'll have to be more specific than that," he said.

Relena was quiet, so he turned to her. She was looking anxiously at the screen, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Are you alright?" he asked carefully.

"Try looking it up with the name Peacecraft," she requested briskly, ignoring his question. He frowned, confused, but did as she asked. This time fewer results appeared. He skimmed briefly over the first one:

_**Sanc Kingdom – The Peacecraft Dynasty:**_

_A small country in Northern Europe with natural borders of mountains and water with a forest to the south. Its sovereign, King Peacecraft, was an admirer of colony leader Heero Yuy and subscribed to his philosophy of total pacifism. In AC 182, the Sanc Kingdom was invaded by Alliance forces and decimated for treason. The royal family was executed._

That wasn't in any history book they used in school. Then again, the curriculum was obviously biased; he had realized that a long time ago. They never learned about Colony modern-history, just the basics of the AC ear and how human kind ventured into space. It was Duo who taught him about where he came from, about important figures like Heero Yuy, the politician who had unified the colonies and negotiated a temporary peace treaty with the military factions from Earth. His assassination on April 7th AC 175 had triggered the current conflict between Earth and the Colonies. He heard people say that the Gundams were sent to Earth on April 7th AC 195 – twenty years after the assassination – because the Colonies wanted to avenge his death.

He was just a kid when his dad first told him about Heero Yuy. He remembered asking if he was named "Heero" because of that Heero Yuy person. For some reason, the question made Duo sad. He mumbled something about how he had named him after a friend he had lost and that his friend happened to be named after the assassinated politician. A curious child, he immediately asked _'How did he die?'_, but Duo ended the conversation right there.

"Is my name in there?" Relena asked apprehensively. He turned to her, his blue eyes burning with distrust. He didn't know why, but this whole thing was making him edgy. It was weird enough to stumble onto a name much like his first name in this damn database entry, now she wanted to know if _her_ first name was in there too?! That was... troubling.

"Should it be?" he asked warily.

"Is it there or not?" she muttered tetchily.

He typed her name into the search engine parameters.

One result popped on the screen.

"Yes," he confirmed, feeling his chest contract into stone. Who _was _this girl?

"Shit," she muttered, looking away. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. "What does it say?"

"Relena Peacecraft," he read the words quietly, slowly; "Second heiress to the thrown of the Sanc Kingdom. Believed to have survived the royal family's execution. Whereabouts unknown."

She scoffed, a bitter little chuckle, before opening her eyes and turning to face the computer again. He could see her turquoise-blue eyes move left and right as she read the words herself.

"He was right," she whispered in a resigned, tired, voice.

"Who?"

"My father," she said, smiling sadly. "Or at least the man I thought was my father..."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her overly-dramatic statement.

"Don't tell me," he muttered cynically; "you're the long lost princess of a vanquished far-away land..." He smirked meanly. "I think I saw this movie... Anastasia, right? The one with the dancing maggots and flying rodent?"

"This isn't funny," she grumbled irately.

"You're right," he retorted, shoving the chair back as he stood up; "It's ridiculous," he spat insolently and switched the computer off by punching the power button with his finger.

"I can't believe I wasted a whole afternoon on this shit..." he muttered angrily, gathering his things.

"I'm not asking for any favors. I said I'll repay you for your efforts," Relena reiterated with resolve, also getting up. Her fists were clenched at her sides. Her expression was somewhere between angry and upset.

"I don't need your money, _princess_."

"Then why did you agree to help me?"

"I don't know! Maybe I thought something _interesting_ was happening for a change!" Frustrated, he almost moaned the words out miserably. "I didn't think I would be indulging a little girl's fantasy of becoming a _princess!_"

"_Shut up_," she warned in a cold, biting tone. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right. Yeah, okay." He grabbed his schoolbag from the floor, throwing it over his shoulder. "My apologies, your _highness_," he muttered mockingly and turned to leave. "I'm out of here..."

He stomped out of the library, angry with himself for believing, even for a second, that something _bigger_ was in store for him.

* * *

By the time he reached the beach it was already sundown. The flame-like rock-face flared angrily under the last rays of golden light. Twilight played tricks on his eyes; it was difficult to see where he stepped as he made the hike down, stumbling here and there. He could barely make out the murky ocean when he finally reached the shoreline, but the soothing rustling of the waves would suffice. He settled down on the cold wet sand and gazed numbly out at the vast blackness surrounding the island. Up ahead in distance, the battleship's lights twinkled against the background of an endless starry sky.

"May I join you?" Relena's timid voice surprised him. He didn't even hear her approach. She was holding a flashlight. Her dishwater-blonde hair flapped wildly in the freezing wind, as did her mint-green dress. The soft fabric flailed enticingly around her white thighs, revealing an inappropriate amount of smooth skin. He could almost see her panties...

He hurried to look up at her face.

"How'd you get here so fast?" he asked, scowling.

"My driver," she replied simply. "He's waiting up by the road," she explained, gesturing towards the bluffs.

"What – no _bodyguard?_" he droned cynically.

"There's no real need for them on the island," Relena replied seriously and he snorted.

"Figures," he muttered and turned to gaze out at the black ocean.

"Mind if I sit?"

"It's a free country," he muttered bleakly. "I hear that's a rarity nowadays."

"It is," she agreed quietly and sat down next to him.

They listened to the waves, staring unseeingly at the dark waters washing upon the sand. They watched the massive battleship sail slowly across the black horizon, illuminating the black waters with gleaming stains of yellow.

"I've never seen them close to the island before," Heero said quietly, his voice almost awed.

"They're keeping out of US territorial water," Relena remarked; "I wouldn't be worried."

His face hardened into a defensive glare. "I didn't say I was."

"Most people would be." She turned to him, studying his face carefully. "But you're not like most people, are you?"

"Are you?" he retorted, looking at her intensely.

"I guess not," she smiled wistfully and turned to look at the water again. Heero did the same. She had placed the flashlight on the ground between them. It sent a bright beam of light across the sand and all the way to the ocean, lighting the small waves touching the shore. He gripped a fistful of sand in both hands, released it to the ground, and then again. He liked the feeling of the cool earth against his skin.

"Do you really think you're her?" he mumbled the question, still toying with the moist sand. "The Peacecraft girl?"

"Yes, I do."

"Why don't you just ask your father about it?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"He's dead."

He winced, feeling like an ass.

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

Silence fell. The waves swooshed quietly in the background.

"Was it an accident?" Heero asked after a while.

"Political assassination," Relena said simply; too plainly. He turned to her, gaping in shock. She smiled sadly and shrugged her slim shoulders in a helpless gesture.

"He was the UESA's Vice Foreign Minister," she explained coolly; "He was killed in a bombing a few months ago. Didn't you hear about it?"

"No... Sorry," Heero mumbled, casting his gaze down to the sand. "I don't really follow the news..."

"That must be nice..." she murmured sadly, circling her finger in the sand; "being completely cut-off like this."

"Well it doesn't get any more _cut-off_ than _this_ place," he grunted and threw a ball of sand away angrily.

"I guess that's why I was sent here," Relena agreed. "My mother figured it would be safe."

"Yeah, my dad did too."

"Were you not born on the island?" She looked up, turning to him in surprise.

"Uh, no..." he mumbled, bowing his head down. He shouldn't have said anything. His father made it _very_ clear that he should refrain from speaking about their past. It wasn't safe, he said. After all, they didn't really exist.

"We, uh, my... m-my dad and I moved here when I was a kid," he explained as vaguely as he could, but that only brought on the next obvious question:

"Where are you from originally?" Relena asked. She was looking at him so intently, her blue eyes burning with such attentiveness that he could not fathom a lie.

"...space," he said simply, casting his eyes down. Duo was going to _kill _him.

"Really?" she marveled; "I understand that it's very hard for Colonists to receive residency on Earth."

"Yeah... well, my dad is sort of an expert getting into places he isn't supposed to."

"What's it like living up there?"

He thought about it for a moment, gazing numbly at the ocean. He inhaled the salty air into his lungs and released it with a sigh.

"...small. Stuffy. Crowded... Nothing like here." He gestured at the infinite ocean. "I don't really like talking about back then..." he mumbled, raking his fingers back and forth across the cold sand.

"I understand," she whispered in a sympathetic voice, turning to look at the black water again. "We all have things we don't like to talk about... I didn't like it very much either."

"Were you up there?"

"...yes. With my father."

"When he died?"

"...yes." She drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them. She placed her chin on top and gazed ahead numbly.

"Why would the Colonists kill your father?" He asked carefully, curious but cautious. He still didn't know if he should trust this girl. He already said too much.

"I didn't say they did." Relena sighed wretchedly.

"Who then?"

"If I tell you, I'll be putting you in danger. You really shouldn't get involved with me... It's not safe."

He scoffed at her melodramatic manner and turned to face the dark ocean. He focused on the battleship sailing in the distance, but his eyes kept urging him to turn in her direction. He was terribly intrigued. Maybe she wasn't the prissy little rich girl he had taken her for. Maybe... maybe she was that _something bigger_ he's been waiting for all along?

"Miss Darlian!" A male voice echoed through the beach and both teenagers turned to face the tall hills behind them. A silhouette of a man was standing against the bright yellow headlights of a car.

"I should get going," Relena sighed and stood up, dusting the sand off her green dress. She looked down at Heero, who was still seated on the sand.

"Can I offer you a ride?"

"I got my bike," he said, never tearing his eyes away from the water, and she nodded in acceptance.

"I guess I'll see you in school," she said and picked up her flashlight. She left the beach without a goodbye.

**To be continued... next weekend**

* * *

**Author's Note: **Please tell me what you think of this so far!

Elle


	5. Act One - Part 4

**Author's Note:** Once again, thank you for all of your kind reviews. Thanks to your R&amp;R, chapter 14 is now complete and I've begun working on the next chapter, so there's plenty more to come! ^_^

Elle

* * *

**Paradox**

**Act One – Part 4**

Heero rode his bike to the light of the LED flashlight attached to the stem, sending forward a brilliant beam that pierced through the pitch black of the night. Above him, the clouds had cleared, revealing a magnificent sky gleaming with countless stars. He grabbed the handlebars tightly, titled back and raised his head to the heavens, absorbing it all in as he sped down the winding road. He knew this route by heart, every turn, every bump and pothole. He loved riding at night, when the whole universe spread above him in an endless blanket of twinkling stars. It was the closest thing he had to feeling like he was a part of what was out there, in the great beyond.

His dad disapproved of him riding out here alone at night, so far away from the outskirts of town, but the island had about _zero_ crime rate, so what was there to be worried about? Besides, he could take care of himself. Odin taught him how. He never told Duo anything about it, so naturally his dad worried, but he could take care of himself if necessary. Sometimes, he even longed for a chance to prove it just so his dad would stop _fretting_. He wasn't made of glass as his father seemed to believe. As a child he used to take great comfort in his dad's overprotective nature, but now it was a nuisance.

It was very hypocritical of Duo; on the one hand, his dad didn't seem to have any problem leaving him alone for days on end, trusting him to fend for himself, but his trust only went so far. There were rules he was expected to adhere even while his dad was away: from trivial and obvious things such as doing homework and preforming his household tasks, to more strict and binding rules such as to never let anyone into the house, stay the fuck away from the liquor cabinet, no internet past 22:30 on a school-night or to heed his curfew hours. His father has been gone for almost four days now and was due back home tonight. He had very little time to get back home before curfew and tidy up the place, keeping up appearances.

A low thunder rumbled in the distance. He didn't pay it any heed at first, but then he suddenly realized that there was not a cloud in the sky, just stars, so why would there be thunder?

Then, bright light streaked the heavens for a split of a second, vanishing before he could even blink. He was about to dismiss it as a shooting star, when suddenly, the light descended into the ocean below, disappearing into the black water without a sound.

Heero hit the brakes. He jumped off the bike and ran to the edge of the cliff, his eyes searching the water below frantically. He couldn't see anything. There was nothing but pitch black and the wild whirring of the waves. Then, he spotted a light. A small patch of water was illuminated by a dim green light. It was coming from deep beneath the surface and it was getting dimmer... sinking.

Legend had it that Block Island was haunted. Many have reported sightings of ghosts on the island. Local folklore told of spirits of the dead, shipwreck victims who could not be buried until the ground thawed at the end of winter, so they still roamed the earth aimlessly. They also said that the lighthouse on Mohegan Bluffs at the southeastern corner of the island was haunted by a lady who was murdered by her husband many centuries ago. Stories had it that she tortured men in their sleep.

The lighthouse was built in the late 1900s to help ships clear the dangerous shoals and ledges typical of the Stumbling Block of the New England coast. There were two ancient lighthouses on the island, but the fog got so bad around these parts that they didn't really make any difference back in the days before radar and sonar technologies. The coastline was full of ancient shipwrecks. When he was little his dad tried to scare him with bone-chilling stories of phantom pirate ships, but those were just scary campfire tales. He was never one to be spooked easily.

His dad enjoyed trying to scare him with stories about the Palatine Light, a well-known apparition reported near Block Island, said to be the ghost ship of a lost 18th century vessel named the Palatine. The spectral ship haunted the waters off the island, bursting into flames and sinking into the ocean. Strange lights have been witnessed in this area and the legend has been used as an explanation for these sightings. They said that seeing it augurs bad news. He didn't believe it of course.

Heero waited on top of the cliff for what must have been an hour, hoping something might happen, but nothing did. Maybe it was just some faulty ocean weather buoy or something... he had seen his fair share of those darn things wash up on shore.

Disappointed, he got back up on his bike. It seemed that every time he thought something interesting was finally going to happen, he came up short. Nothing big was ever going to happen on Block Island. That was why his dad chose to settle in his hellhole in the first place – where it was 100% guaranteed that absolutely _nothing_ was _ever_ going to happen!

Cycling furiously as he rode home, Heero swore that the minute he'll turn eighteen he was off the island for good!

* * *

Days went by uneventfully; schoolwork and soccer practice, mostly. There was another big game coming up next week and Coach was counting on him as his _star-athlete_. At school, they had to read this _stupid_ novel for English about some old man trying to catch a damn fish. They had to submit a book report by the end of the month. Reading the book was pure torture; it was taking forever. He took the crappy old novel with him to the beach where he could read quietly; Relena joined him sometimes. She seemed to enjoy reading it, but he couldn't concentrate. His eyes kept wandering to the sea, looking at the battleship which still hasn't left the area. It wasn't doing anything; it was just... _there_.

A big math exam was also coming up, not that he worried about that, but his fellow students were pretty nervous about it. A couple of them even approached him about tutoring them, but he couldn't be bothered. He hated stupid people; they got on his nerves real fast.

He didn't do much to prepare for the test, but now that he was a tenth grader, his math teacher was really pressing him to join the online AP math course the school offered, since it was too small to have an Advance Placement program of its own. He actually decided to go through with it, just so he could have something to challenge him. He was never an Honors student, but he certainly could be if he set his mind on it. There was nothing better to do anyway, and he was already pretty much of a dork... why not be an AP Dork and be done with it?

One gloomy Tuesday afternoon, Heero sat hunched over his AP algebra practice book, trying to figure out this tricky equation, when Relena approached his desk at the public library. He looked up blankly and she greeted him with a small nod of her head as she pulled out the chair opposite of his and sat down, placing a pile of math books on the desk. She was wearing a nice peach-pink dress. He has known her for about a month now and every day he took note of what she wore because he has never seen her wear the same dress twice. It was like a game. He was curious to see when the endless supply of fancy dresses will finally run out and begin repeating itself. He bet fifty.

"I finished those practice sheets you gave me," she told him, speaking quietly. "I think I did pretty well," she said and handed him her notebook. He took it, frowning, and quickly leafed through the pages.

Over the past month they've formed a sort of weak bond, a connection born out of mutual understanding. There was something about her that was familiar; sad, lonely and wounded... just like him. He wouldn't exactly call what they had a _friendship_, but in essence she was the closest thing he has ever had to a friend. He didn't mind her so much, maybe because she didn't pry. She seemed to understand that he wanted to keep his distance. She respected his privacy and never asked him anything; she just kept him company. Perhaps that's why he offered to help her with her math studies. She really sucked at math, but for some reason he didn't find it annoying. He tutored her twice a week.

"Ten out of twelve," he commented dryly and snapped the notebook shut. He handed it back to her. "Not bad."

Relena accepted her notebook back and turned to look at it, frowning. "Which ones did I get wrong?"

"Figure it out," he muttered and turned back to his own notebook, hunching over it with a pencil in hand. He erased something in a furious motion and then rewrote it.

Relena sighed and opened her notebook as well, browsing through the problems she had solved with a frown. "Number three?" she ventured a guess, quirking an eyebrow his way.

"No."

"Hmm," she let out thoughtfully and turned back to her notes. "Four?" She asked, looking up at him. Heero nodded, still leaning over his notebook, jotting numbers down quickly. Relena took an elegant pencil case out of her school bag, drew a clean white pencil out and tried to solve the exercise correctly. They sat together, working quietly. When she finished she presented him the notebook, holding it open before him, and he looked up, his blue eyes skimming over her solution hastily. He nodded in approval and then buried his nose in his books again.

"Now fix number eight."

Relena set her notebook down and did as he asked. She solved the math exercise, stealing glances his way every now and then. He was a very handsome boy; even with his childlike unkempt hairdo and plain outfits (usually jeans and a hooded pop-over; he could easily model for American Eagle Outfitters if he wanted). There was something very intense about his looks, something so alluring she couldn't help but stare. Luckily, he failed to notice her stolen glimpses. He was leaning over his notebook, engrossed in his work – jotting something down, scoffing irately as he erased it and scribbled a different solution, his pencil moving hastily against the paper. She has never seen him put so much effort into his schoolwork before. He usually breezed through it. AP has really challenged him and Heero seemed to thrive on challenge.

"I'd like to see the game on Monday," she let out, thinking out loud.

"Why?" he asked, never raising his eyes from the page.

She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I want to see you play," she said simply.

"You've seen me practice. It's pretty much the same."

"No it's not," she countered, smirking as she imagined him out on the playing field when every move counted and every second mattered. That's when he would really shine.

"I bet you're much fiercer when you play for real."

He stopped writing down numbers and stared at her, confused. She smiled softly, gazing calmly into his eyes. Feeling awkward, he looked back down at his notebook.

"I thought you're not allowed off-island," he mumbled.

"They can't keep me here forever."

"It's been a _month_," he pointed out wryly.

"Feels like a year..." she sighed, turning to look out the windows to their side. She studied the rainclouds broodingly, before turning to him with a sad little smile.

"I'll sneak out," she declared, smiling slyly. "Martha won't even know I'm gone."

Martha was her governess, a woman in charge of caring for her wellbeing while she lived away from home, hiding on the island. He's only been to her house once, when escorting her home one night after they stayed late at the library. Other than Relena, the massive mansion was occupied only by a handful of domestic workers, a driver and the nanny. He had a feeling that at least two of the workers were from a military background; he figured they also served as bodyguards. There was a lot of security around the estate. He suspected that someone was out for Relena's life after witnessing her father's death, but he never dared to ask. It was none of his business anyway.

"Could you meet me at the house? I'll need a ride to get to the ferry."

"Get your damn driver to do it, princess."

"It's too conspicuous. They'll know where I'm going. I know how to get past security... I just need you to meet me once I'm out."

"Fine," he muttered in disdain, flinging a page over to solve another math problem without turning to look at her as he agreed to her silly plan. "I'll pick you up at four," he grunted. "Wear _pants_."

Relena laughed at his biting tone. "Fair enough," she said, smiling. She turned back to her notebook as well. They spent the rest of the afternoon studying quietly together.

* * *

Even with the big game against Rocky Hill School only a day away, his dad still hasn't come home. It was Sunday morning and Coach said that they should get some rest before tomorrow. Heero spent the day cleaning the house and doing chores his dad couldn't be bothered doing, like mopping floors and scrubbing the kitchen and bathroom clean. His dad didn't really tell him to do the cleaning, but if he won't do it then no one will; it was either that or live in a damn pigsty – two guys living alone could get pretty damn nasty.

It's not that his dad didn't try to keep things together when he was around, he really did, but those days were becoming scarce. Duo wasn't around much anymore. He hoped his dad wasn't pushing himself so hard because he was stressing over stupid things like a college fund or whatever. He could easily get a scholarship anyway (sports or academic); that is, if he even bothered with college. He wasn't sure yet, but if it would get him off the island sooner than later then maybe, yeah. It could happen. What else was there to do?

Dressed in a sloppy T-shirt and sweats, Heero sat kneeling in front of a white toilet, his hands covered by blue cleaning gloves and holding a toilet-brush, scrubbing the bowl clean. His cellphone was resting on the floor next to him, playing music; a slow-beat pop-ballade with a female singer droning about her "summertime sadness". He didn't really know the lyrics and what the song was all about, but he liked the title.

The music was cut-off abruptly when the phone rang. He didn't have any friends, so the only person who could be calling him would be his dad. He sighed, set the toilet brush down and removed one glove as he turned to look down at the phone ringing on the floor. Indeed, the caller ID read 'Dad'. He took the call, lifting the phone to his ear.

"You're not coming home," he more or less stated, because there was no question about it. His voice was calm, devoid of bitterness or blame.

"No," his dad mumbled after a moment's pause; "sorry... I know I promised to make it to the next game, but..." he sighed; "something came up. I'm so sorry, Heero. I really wish I could be there. It's been _ages _since I've last seen you play."

Heero gaped numbly at the toilet brush laid on the floor. He stared at it until his vision blurred.

"It's okay," he murmured almost automatically; what else could he say?

"I get it," he added quietly while staring at the toilet brush.

"I'll make it up to you when I get back," his dad hurried to promise, sounding guilty; "Anything... just ask and it's yours, okay?"

Heero gawked numbly at the brush. His dad could never give him what he _really_ wanted. He didn't even know what the _thing_ was, but he knew that if he'd ever dared ask for it, it'll break his father's heart. His expression turned wretched as he stared down at the brush. Scrubbing toilets would have to do.

"Heero?" his dad called his name ruefully; "I'm really sorry, okay? I wouldn't be doing this to you if it wasn't important. You know that, right?"

"Yeah... it's okay," he mumbled dazedly, his numb blue eyes focused on the toilet-brush. "Don't worry about it."

An awkward silence stretched for moment. His dad couldn't think of anything more to say. He was probably waiting for him to say something, but he didn't have anything to say either.

"How you doing?" his dad finally asked, almost sheepishly; "Managing okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed the word out with a sigh.

"How's school?"

"Okay," he replied. His dad didn't even know about the AP math class he was taking. He didn't see the point behind sharing anything about his life anymore. It didn't really matter; nothing he did mattered.

He picked up the toilet brush with his gloved hand.

"I'm kinda busy," he stated bleakly, glaring at the brush in his hand as he turned it around from side to side.

"Yeah, sure... sorry," his dad mumbled apologetically. "Hang in there, alright? I'll be back as soon as I'm done here. Just a while longer, okay? I promise. I'll come back and then everything will go back to normal."

"...okay," he mumbled and hung up without a goodbye. He picked up the other cleaning glove, slipped it back on and resumed scrubbing the toilet furiously.

* * *

The next day, the day of the game, Heero went to the tool shed where his dad stored his old bike and detached the companion seat his dad had used to take him along for rides when he was a kid. He installed it on his own bike and went to pick Relena up as he had promised. His dad would flip out if he knew that he was taking a girl along to the game. Duo would have called it progress, he supposed, but his dad wasn't around to see it so it didn't really matter.

They seemed to be living very different lives now. He told himself he was okay about it, but his dad has never missed so many games before and it was actually kind of... upsetting. His games used to mean something to his dad. Now Duo seemed very preoccupied all of the time; nothing like the father he had known as a child, the man who used to read to him before bed and play silly games all afternoon, devoting his every waking minute to be with him.

The game was taking place in East Greenwich, two hours away from the island by ferry and an hour drive. The team was to meet at school to get on the bus that'll take them there, along with anyone else who was interested in watching the game (mostly proud parents who actually gave a shit about their kids).

Carrying his gym bag over his back, Heero cycled across the island to the old Thomson's house. It was raining mercilessly and his jeans and hooded jacket were drenched. Usually his dad would give him a ride when it was pouring so hard, but apparently Duo had more important things to do than being a father.

Relena told him to meet her by the tall cliffs overlooking the ocean behind the large Thomson's estate; she said there will be less security by the steep cliffs. She was already waiting there when he arrived. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans for a change (designer brand no doubt) and holding an umbrella over her head.

She climbed on the bike, mounting the companion seat behind him, and held her umbrella over his head as well. He tensed, startled, when she wrapped one arm around his waist to steady herself. He should have expected it, but it made him jumpy anyway. No one really got this close to him except for Duo.

"Did anyone see you leave?" he asked quietly as he slowly cycled away from the large house. He rode slowly so that the chilly wind won't blow her umbrella away.

"I don't think so," she said, leaning against him so she could speak close to his ear, talking over the cold wind. "Otherwise they would've stopped me, right?"

"I guess," he mumbled, feeling uncomfortable with her closeness. The heady scent of her sweet perfume engulfed him. She was warm and he felt so cold. He didn't mind it when she leaned a bit closer, pressing her chest against his back as she chuckled quietly in his ear.

"I've never snuck out before," she said, smiling, "this is kind of exciting."

He scoffed, snorting cynically. "Yeah, well, this is about as _exciting_ as it gets around here, princess."

She laughed, a pleasant melodious sound in his ear, and he had to stifle a smile. He cycled a bit faster and felt her grip around his waist tighten. He didn't mind; in fact, he cycled faster. The burning in his chest was back, burning wildly. This was... nice.

* * *

The Rocky Hill Terriers gave them quite a fight. His chest had sizzled and burnt furiously all through the suspenseful game. It was a close call up until the very end and he gave it his best, moving vigorously through the playing field, fiercer than ever. He could feel her eyes on him as she watched from the bleachers.

The BI Canes won the game 4-3 after a tense penalty shootout that followed a long match ending in a draw. He had scored the winning goal from the penalty mark, the only goal made in all five attempts, and the crowd went _ballistic_. The team was all over him – cheering, shoving, praising, high-fiving and whatnot. Everyone was going about like he was some big hero when all he had done was kick a ball into a net.

They kept going on and on about it in the locker rooms. He didn't like showering with the rest of the boys, because then they might see the scars all over his body – evidence of the abuse he had suffered as a child. However this time a hot shower was unavoidable. It had rained through most of the game and the playing field got all muddy; he was drenched in mud from head to toe. He did his best to keep out of sight, shying away from the other boys. He hated having to do that, it made him feel so pathetic, but he'd hate their staring even more. They left him alone after a while. He was the last to leave the locker rooms.

Relena was waiting for him once he stepped outside, carrying his gym bag and muddy soccer shoes. He was wearing a warm black tracksuit and a spare pair of sneakers. His hair was still wet, his bangs dripping, so he pushed them up over his head so they won't drip all over his face. Relena smiled, observing him evenly. She did that sometimes, staring at him, but he didn't mind, mostly because she had caught him staring a few times as well. He had discovered a few new aspects to puberty thanks to her stupid short dresses. Seeing her in skinny jeans and a tight blouse didn't help either. He tore his eyes off her endless long legs and looked up, leveling his gaze with hers.

"Good game," she remarked softly, smiling. That was all she said before they walked together to the bus. He appreciated her reserve.

They took a seat together. Heero turned to look out the window as the bus pulled out of the Rocky Hill School's driveway. It was half past eight PM and the New England town streets were dark and empty. They drove past impressive Colonial-style mansions and ancient Federal-Georgian buildings.

East Greenwich was the wealthiest municipality in state of Rhode Island and Rocky Hill School was a prestigious private school for the wealthy town residents, but all that money didn't really help them tonight, now did it? He bet they felt like shit losing to a small public school team like the Canes. Heero kind of liked being the underdog. There was, of course, something very gratifying about winning when everyone expected you to lose, especially when coming from such a small, seemingly insignificant, group.

"Too bad your dad wasn't here to see it," Relena commented quietly after a while.

"I guess," he mumbled, still gazing out the window.

"Did you call to tell him about the win?" she asked carefully. Heero didn't answer. He kept looking out the window as they drove down a dark highway, heading back to the ferry terminal at Point Judith.

"My dad was away a lot too," she said after a while, sighing. Heero turned to face her, his expression blank. She sat with her head bowed down, looking down at her French-manicured fingers.

"He used to take me along sometimes... my mother insisted. It was the only way we got to spend time together, but he was always so busy... the only real memories I have of him are of the many idle hours we spent on a shuttle or a plane..."

"My dad never takes me along," Heero murmured quietly and turned back to face the window. "He doesn't like it when I go off-island, even on games."

"Why is it so important that you stay on the island?"

"I don't know," Heero sighed. "He gets all weird when I ask him about it. He just says that there's less of a chance I'll get into trouble if I stay close to home."

"Sounds familiar," she remarked, smiling sadly.

They spent the rest of the ride to the coast in silence. There wasn't much to say; they already seemed to share a wordless understanding. When the bus boarded the ferry, people went to stretch their legs for a bit. They stepped off the bus as well and went to one of the concession stands scattered along the vessel. They were cash-only and Relena was only carrying a damn hundred dollar bill, to which the seller had no change. He ended up treating her to a drink and a snack and she smiled in thanks, promising to pay him back. He mumbled something about how she shouldn't bother, embarrassed all of a sudden because he thought this might count as some form of a _date_. Stupid, huh?

He then helped himself to two hot dogs and a coke. He was starving after a long game. She laughed at his healthy appetite and offered him some of her tortilla chips. They stood by the ferry railing and gazed at the stormy black ocean. Heero could see the battleship sailing the deep waters up ahead. It was very cold and very windy. Their hair flapped wildly with the wind as they leaned on the metal railing, watching the waves shatter against the ferry as it split the sea.

"When's the last time you had a home-cooked meal?" Relena asked timidly; a tone she rarely used.

"I usually order pizza or something," he mumbled and took a sip from his can of cola, gazing out at the sea.

"You should come over for dinner some time," she offered carefully.

Heero turned to study her face quietly, frowning. "At your house?" he asked, a bit appalled by the idea.

She shrugged nonchalantly and turned to look back at the water. "I bet the Help will be happy to finally have someone to cook for... they always complain that I hardly eat. A growing boy's appetite is just what they need."

He snorted at her reasoning. "Well, when you put it that way, _princess_..." he taunted, smirking sarcastically. She laughed, probably realizing how prissy she sounded.

"That came out kind of awful, didn't it?" She smiled blushingly, tucking a long stand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I just think we could both use the company, that's all," she explained, turning to lean over the railing again. She watched the black waves with pensive eyes. "Maybe then the island would feel less like a prison," she whispered miserably.

Heero observed her quietly, his blue eyes gleaming thoughtfully in the dark. Sometimes he felt as though she was giving voice to his deepest thoughts. It was quite unsettling. He just didn't know what to make of her.

"Thanks for coming see me play," he murmured, casting his eyes down awkwardly. It felt like he was thanking her for caring when no one else did.

"Sure," she replied quietly, still gazing at the raging black ocean. "Thank you for letting me."

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Your review will be most ****appreciated****.**

**Elle**


	6. Act One - Part 5

**Paradox**

**Act One – Part 5**

September ended and October brought a dense kind of chill to the island. The gray ocean waters seethed raucously, giant unruly waves rising up high and crashing loudly against the coastline. Strong winds howled constantly and heavy rain pummeled the island, beating the soggy green ground ruthlessly.

It was a rainy afternoon. Lightning split the gloomy skies, followed by a rumbling thunder. Rain pounded mercilessly against the timeworn tile roof of their shabby old farmhouse. Heero unlocked the front door and opened it with one hand; his other arm was wrapped around a hefty paper bag full of groceries, holding it against his torso. His hooded shirt and jeans were soaked, as was his hair; he wasn't wearing a jacket. His muddy shoes left stains on the worn hardwood floor as he stepped into an empty house. Relena followed him inside quietly. She was also carrying a grocery bag. Her long blonde hair and elegant light-blue dress were dry aside from a few drops of drizzling rain. Her black knee-high boots were just slightly muddy.

Heero placed the large bag on the floor and turned to take the other one from Relena. After going nearly two weeks without any grocery shopping, he finally decided to stop by the local supermarket on the way from school and get some much needed supplies. He strapped the bags to the companion seat on his bike, covering them with his jacket so they won't get wet as he cycled home through the pouring rain, soaked to the bone. Somewhere down the road, a car honked to get his attention. He stopped, thinking maybe his dad was finally home and heading back from the airport, but it wasn't his dad's red pickup. It was Relena and her driver. She offered him a ride home and he accepted it with gratitude.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he took the second bag of groceries from her, holding it against him. They stood in awkward silence, facing each other. Relena was still standing in the doorway, looking down at the muddy tip of her stylish high boots. She was waiting for him to say something, wasn't she?

"Uh... would you like to come in?" he offered carefully, frowning. She looked up, smiling. She has been waiting for an invitation.

"Sure," she said and stepped inside, looking around. The house was old, but cozy. It was a bit dusty, but not overly messy. He noted how she stared at the open pizza box and soda cans left on the coffee table. He still hasn't accepted her invitation to come over for dinner. She didn't say anything; she didn't raise the topic once since the ferry, but he could tell that she was still waiting for him to accept.

"I, uh..." he found himself stuttering uneasily, "It's okay, I can..." what – cook for himself now instead of eating junk food? Did he really need to tell her that? She'd think he was inviting her for dinner!

"I got the groceries, so..." what – don't worry about me? Why would she worry? Why was he explaining himself anyway!? Shit!

"I... I'll just put these away..." he mumbled and hurried to take the bags to the kitchen, wincing at his own _stupid_ display of nervous teenage behavior. Shit.

He unpacked and arranged the groceries hastily. He could hear her boots tap quietly against the old hardwood floor as she took a look around. For some reason, that made him a bit anxious. He could just picture her running her prissy French-manicured hand over a surface or two, frowning disapprovingly at the dust and wiping it off her delicate white finger with a grimace of displeasure.

"You have a nice house," she said as she stepped into the kitchen, smiling softly. "It has a kind of... charm."

He turned to her, scowling. By "charm" she meant it's old and shabby, right? The roof was leaking, the floorboards were cracked and the steps creaked when you stepped on them... it was a dump that demanded constant maintenance just to keep it from falling apart. His dad bought the cheap foreclosure house with money he had won gambling (up until very recently, his dad was _really_ good at guessing the outcome of _any_ Major League Baseball game; it was uncanny), and took it on as a fixer-upper project. He had helped his dad do some major renovating this last summer, including going up on the roof to fix broken tiles, but now the damn thing was leaking again and he just couldn't be bothered going up there in the heavy rain.

"It looks very... lived-in," Relena said and by that she probably meant "messy", right?

"Feels very homey," she concluded quietly, smiling sadly. "I like it."

"It isn't the Thomson's house, but it's home," he muttered and turned to close the pantry.

"My house feels more like a museum than a home," she mumbled sadly. "A glass prison, really..." she sighed.

"It can't be that bad," he tried to... comfort her? She offered him a small, gracious smile – thanking him for it?

* * *

He served her some hot tea and went to take a shower before he'll freeze to death in his drenched clothes. By evening fall, they had long settled in his room, doing homework together. He felt rather uneasy showing her up to his room, having her step into his sanctuary, but it wasn't so bad. She stood by the door for a moment, taking it all in. He could see her sharp turquoise-blue eyes travel across the blue walls, observing the old-fashioned sci-fi movie posters, the shelves full of comic books and the large MS model collection above his computer work station. He saw a hidden smile hover over her pouty red lips when she spotted Manny by the monitor. He shifted awkwardly in his spot, feeling a bit self-conscious about having his more sentimental side revealed. He was relieved when she tactfully kept her amusement to herself and just kept running her eyes over the room.

His computer was on, an open browser displaying the last website he had visited – one of those crazy underground forums where people shared stories of their "Gundam Sightings", posting blurry photos and stuff like that, trying to capture the elusive and ghostly mobile suits terrorizing the Earth. He wanted to get a good look at one so he could get a basic idea of what it looked like and mimic the design when building his own Gundam model. It would be way easier than getting his hands on an illicit model kit – that much was certain.

If Relena hasn't figured out by now that he was a total _nerd_, getting a quick onceover of his room was the final confirmation. She didn't say anything though, only a small comment about the nice view of the Great Salt Pond seen out his bedroom window.

They sat together on the dark-gray carpet decorating the floor in his room, leaning against his bed as they engrossed themselves in their history textbooks. Their backpacks were laid open on the floor, a pile of notebooks spilling out. A bowl full of Cheetos and another full of potato chips rested between them, along with a couple of open soda pops. He had placed a portable quartz tower heater next to the carpet. It cast a warm orange halo over them both; the orangey light made her hair shine like gold. Rain beat loudly against the window as they worked on their history homework assignment in pleasant silence.

"This is stupid," Relena complained as she turned a page in the book. "They might as well cover whole paragraphs with black ink," she muttered in disdain. "It'll be the same as omitting so many parts of history. Why not give us books about Holocaust denial or creationist nonsense and be done with it!"

"History belongs to the winners," Heero stated simply, his eyes still on the textbook. "Representation of society's flaws and misconduct is downplayed in favor of a more patriotic view... Maybe if OZ wins they'll print a new edition," he muttered dryly; "I bet they're already working on it as we speak..." [[i]]

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I doubt I'll approve of their version of history any more than I approve of this piece of _Alliance propaganda_." She sighed and snapped the textbook shut. "I can't write this essay based on a biased textbook," she muttered disdainfully and placed the book on the floor. She started at it wretchedly for a moment. "My dad had an extensive library collection in his den back home..." she mumbled sadly; "at least his history books didn't lie by omission."

"Don't worry, princess," he muttered sarcastically, "If the Gundams win, the Colonies will print a textbook more to your liking," he snarled cynically; "one detailing _all_ of Earth's wrongdoings."

She laughed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He smiled a little and cast his gaze down to his book again to hide the undeniable smile.

"Whitewashing is wrong no matter who's doing the censorship," Relena groused bitterly.

"You're putting too much thought into this," he berated; "it's just school. It doesn't mean anything. Just write the damn essay."

"The way facts and history are represented in school influence the interpretation of contemporary thought, opinion and socialization," she informed him in an all-knowing manner; "It's critical at our age. Kids grow up believing this... these _lies_."

"These aren't lies," he countered; "History is subjective. It is structured and biased to meet the needs of the present. It's a bunch of facts mixed together with a good story to meet the ideological needs of a community. The UESA is nothing but a global community imagined by the people who perceive themselves as part of it. This version of history is what binds them together." [[ii]]

"Well, it still feels like a form of _brainwashing_," Relena insisted; "They drill these thoughts into our brains, filling us with patriotism and an inflated sense of righteousness so that we wouldn't mind fighting and dying for our country. It's cruel."

"It's necessary," he countered harshly, his eyes glowering. "People need a reason to fight. They will only sacrifice their lives for things they believe in, and that can only be achieved through education."

"There's more to school than raising future ideologist fighters," she retorted; "People should not be raised to think that it's okay to kill in order to preserve their ideals. There are more peaceful ways to open a dialogue."

"Don't look down on those who are sacrificing everything so that you may sit here in peace and criticize them for killing. They're fighting to sustain your way of life. They're the salt of the earth, protecting the ideals and moral principles they've been taught by the same educational system you're condemning, the same system that raised them to be who they are."

"Yes, but... there must be another way," she protested. "Why should the system support the fighting?"

"It doesn't. It just gives us a reason to fight, by teaching us about our heritage in a way that would make us proud to be a part of it. Those boys are fighting for their home, their families... their heritage. They don't do it for the politicians. They do it because they come from small towns just like this one and they're thinking of home. No matter on whose side they're on – it's the same thing. People fight for their community, for the place they want to belong."

She smiled softly, moved by his insight. She has never heard him speak of anything as passionately as he did now.

"Regardless of its flaws," he said; "a nation is always conceived through a deep sense of comradeship. Ultimately, it's this fraternity that makes it possible for so many people not just to kill, but to willingly die for such an imperfect concept." [[iii]]

"So you're saying that this version of history is _acceptable_?" she marveled, frowning disapprovingly; "That the end justifies the means?"

Heero shook his head. "I'm saying that it's subjective. It doesn't matter what the book says. When it comes down to it, we all share the same set of basic values. Regardless of ideology, this war will end when people on the other side realize that the enemy is after the same thing. Both sides are fighting because of their past and for their future, for the sake of their children and their children's children.

"Earth doesn't have a future without the Colonies, unless it implements some serious population control regulations – and that will never be executed peacefully. The Colonies can't survive without Earth's resources. This co-dependence is what started this conflict, and it will also end it."

She smirked playfully. "I thought you don't follow the course of the war..." she teased and he shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

"I don't," he said simply, "I'm not taking sides or anything, and it won't matter if I did, because it doesn't matter who wins – the outcome will be the same. Both sides want the same thing. It's only a matter of who blinks first."

"So this pointless fighting will stop once the people up there realize that we love our children too, so to speak?" she said, smiling warmly at his insightful words.

"Once we all realize we're after the same thing, yes."

"I never thought about it this way before," she whispered, awed. He shrugged, embarrassed, and turned back to his book.

"I heard it in some crappy old war song my dad listened to..." [[iv]] he mumbled. He never thought about it before, but suddenly the song made perfect sense. He probably never would have realized its meaning if he didn't know what family was, what it meant to have something to fight for, to have the kind of life you'd want to defend. He suddenly realized with morbid visceral conviction that he would even go back to the way things were _Before_ to protect this life. He would do that for his dad, for their little family. He would do whatever it takes... even kill again. Odin never gave him a reason to kill; _'just point and shoot'_, he had said. Now he had a good reason to pull the trigger and soil his hands with more blood; he would do it for the same reason those boys were fighting out there – he'd do it for his family. It won't make it any easier; taking a life should never be easy, but at least he will be doing it for a reason, unlike Before.

He shuddered, feeling cold inside, as he often felt when thinking of the lives he was forced to take for no apparent reason. He was so terribly young, but he understood the consequences of his actions. He knew what "kill" and "dying" meant; Odin showed him. He knew that he was a bad, dirty little boy with blood on his hands. He knew he should never tell anyone about the awful things he had done. His father must never know. He mustn't know his son was a killer who killed without knowing why, just because he was told to pull the trigger. He suddenly wondered if Odin had done what he had for a good reason; did the man fight, kill and teach him how to do the same because he loved his children too?

"Heero?" The gentle touch of Relena's hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his dark musings. He looked up, somewhat startled, his body tensing.

"Are you okay?" she asked carefully, withdrawing her hand; "Did I upset you?"

"No... sorry," he mumbled and gazed numbly at the book in his lap. "I was just thinking."

"About your dad?"

"About the song."

"Oh."

Downstairs, the front door opened, creaking and then closing. Hearing it, Heero looked at the bedroom's doorway and frowned cautiously. Relena turned to look at it as well. Someone threw a set of keys against a wooden surface. Heavy boots trudged up the stairs.

"Heero?" His dad called as he walked towards the room. "Are you home?"

A moment later, the man was at the door, peering into the room. He was wearing a grease-covered gray jumpsuit, looking much the worse for wear. His features were gaunt and pale, bearing a week's worth of stubble. A streak of grease was smudged on his left cheek. His braid was disheveled, dangling against his dirty overall. The rich chestnut-brown hair was also soiled with grease. Looking down at the man's hands, Heero noted that there were filthy as well; and his knuckles were bruised. He studied his dad, frowning. What the hell was the idiot doing out there? Was he working as an aircraft mechanic now too, pulling extra hours at the airfield?

"Hey there, kiddo," his dad opened casually with a smile, "I just got ba—" Then, he seemed to realize that there was someone else in the room with him – a _girl _no less_._ He stopped short, stumped, but quickly got his wits back together and offered Relena an awkward smile.

"Uh... hi," he said, surprised, "I, uh, didn't realize Heero had company," he apologized with a guilty smile.

"It's okay," Relena said, smiling respectfully. She rose from the carpet, curtseying slightly; just a small mimic of the gesture. "I'm Relena," she introduced herself. "I moved here a while ago."

"Oh... yeah, I know," his dad mumbled like an idiot; "The old Thomson's house, right?"

"Yes," she nodded to confirm and Heero frowned. Has Duo seen her before?

"Yeah, I helped fly you guys in..." Duo said, looking away uneasily. "You probably don't recognize me from the front..." he joked, chuckling nervously. Relena smiled politely. Heero studied their exchange of words with a wary scowl. His dad was acting all _weird_. Usually he was a much more outgoing and friendly guy. Was it so _stupefying _to come in and see him having a friend over? Or was it because she was a pretty girl?

"Well, uh... welcome to the island," his dad added with a tense smile. "Settled in okay?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied and sat back on the carpet, next to Heero. The two teenagers looked at the man standing awkwardly stiff at the doorway, waiting for him to say something more, or just leave already. When Duo didn't move, just kept staring at them dumbly, Heero's expression hardened into a spiteful glare.

"Anything else?" he asked, annoyed.

"No, I, uh... I'll go get started on dinner..." the man mumbled and left, closing the door behind him stiffly.

Relena chuckled. "Interesting man, your father."

"He's an idiot."

"I think he's rather sweet."

Heero scoffed. "Only _you_ would think that, princess." He rolled his eyes. "He's _embarrassing_."

"I like his hair," she remarked, smirking. "What an unusual choice for a man..."

"Like I said," Heero sighed and picked up his history book; "he's embarrassing."

* * *

Duo made pot-roast for dinner. It was the only good thing he knew how to cook, so he was probably trying to impress. _Idiot_. They sat in the dining room – Duo sitting at the head of the table and Heero and Relena sitting on opposite sides. His dad had showered and changed out of the filthy jumpsuit and was back in his usual pair of dark jeans and a warm plaid black/red flannel shirt. It would have passed for a handsome masculine look, if not for the ridicules braid dangling across his backside. Heero made a mental note to finally ask his dad about the weird hairdo. It never bothered him this much before, mainly because he was too young to really give it much consideration, but now he was... curious? Or maybe just pissed at how humiliating it was to be associated with such a peculiar man.

The large wooden table felt a bit less empty now that there were three diners, but an awkwardly thick silence still hung in the air, disturbed only by the soft clanking of cutlery. His dad had served each of them a soda, but got himself a bottle of beer; Heero suspected that it wasn't his first drink tonight. He observed the man with obvious disdain as he took a sip out the bottle. His dad never used to drink this much before, but something has changed over the past year. Ever since the war broke out, he's been acting different.

Duo was frowning warily at Relena as he drank. His staring was probably making her uneasy, because she sat with her head bowed down, staring at her plate as she shoved food around with her fork. Damn it. The first time he's ever brought someone home and his dad was acting like a _jerk!_

"When did you get back?" he asked just so Duo would stop staring at his... friend. Yes, friend. Might as well admit it.

"Huh?" his dad turned to him, setting his beer down. "Oh, uhm, just now. Why?"

"You didn't say you were coming."

"This gig got canceled so I came back home. I wanted to surprise you."

"Right," Heero snapped bitingly. "You were working on your plane all day," he accused. "Drinking, right? You're probably here since morning. You could have called," he muttered in dismay.

Relena followed the exchange of words anxiously, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

"What?" Duo sneered; "And ruin the surprise?"

Heero scoffed, irate. "If you wanted to surprise me, you could have come home and go grocery shopping," he replied spitefully.

"Fine, be a dick about it," Duo muttered, rolling his eyes. He sipped more beer, muttering against the bottle: "Big fucking surprise..."

Heero ignored him. Relena shifted uncomfortably in her seat. A tense silence fell over the dining room. They ate quietly, focused on their plates and avoiding eye contact. After a few more sips of beer, Duo lowered the bottle a bit and turned to Relena with a wily smile.

"So... when did you two lovebirds start dating?"

"Dad!" Heero exclaimed harshly, glowering at his father with burning blue eyes.

"What?" Duo asked innocently, taunting him; "You always say I'm so God damn _embarrassing_, at least gimme a chance to embarrass you so I could live up to my good name!"

"_Duo_..." Heero hissed a warning under his breath.

"It's okay," Relena smiled politely, turning to face his dad graciously. "We're not dating, Mister Maxwell," she explained calmly. His dad smirked when she called him by his last name.

"We're just friends," she assured him; "Heero helps me with my math studies."

"Oh? Does he now?" Duo mumbled cynically and turned to quirk an eyebrow at his son. Heero glared at him angrily. His whole posture was tense, seething.

"Yes," Relena confirmed; "he's very bright," she added carefully, "Did you know he's taking an AP class this year?" she said in an almost daring manner.

"No... I did not," the man said slowly, frowning at Heero. The boy scoffed insolently, looking away. Of course he didn't.

"I've been trying to convince him to take AP physics as well," Relena elaborated with composure, "he's very good at it."

"And why won't you?" His father turned to ask him, glowering disdainfully.

"Because," Heero mumbled, avoiding his prying eyes.

"Because what?"

"Just because."

"Well, you obviously ain't gonna make it to the _debate team_ this year..." Duo muttered cynically and sipped more beer; "so stick to exact science. Join the damn AP class."

"_You_ join the damn AP class," Heero snapped; "I have enough on my plate right now."

His father snorted dismissively. "You wouldn't know a full plate if it hit you in da _fucking face_," he groused sullenly and slammed his beer bottle on the table.

A tense, angry, silence fell. Relena cast her gaze down anxiously. Heero and Duo glared furiously at each other.

"Thanks a lot, _dad_," Heero droned nastily and slammed his plate on the table while pushing his chair back violently, standing up. Relena raised her head to look at him, obviously troubled.

"Come on," he said while purposely ignoring Duo; "I'll take you home."

She was tactful enough not to remind him that she could simply call her driver to pick her up. She could probably tell he needed to get out of there. She got up slowly, mumbling a quiet "thank you" and the two left the dining room, leaving his father behind, drinking and fuming silently.

They stepped outside into the icy night air and Heero went to fetch his bike, which was leaning against the porch. It has finally stopped raining, but it was still very cold. He regretted stepping out of the house in such a hurry without giving her a chance to grab her coat. She was wearing a flimsy light-blue dress; she must be freezing. Her school bag was still up in his room too. He climbed on his bike and she climbed on the companion seat, leaning closely against him to share some warmth.

"I should go get your coat," he mumbled and prepared to get up.

"No," she whispered, "It's okay."

She understood. Going back was like admitting defeat.

They rode away. Heero cycled as fast as he could, taking his anger and frustration out on the poor pedals as they spun wildly.

"He didn't mean anything by it," Relena offered some careful insight. She leaned in closer against him.

"Yes he did," Heero muttered sullenly; "He thinks I'm an ungrateful _child_."

"He's been working very hard lately, he's tired. I think he just wanted to spend some time with you and having me around kind of threw him off."

"Damn it, princess, why are you defending him?" he asked accusingly.

"Because I know what it's like to resent your father, and I know what it's like to lose a father without ever reconciling these feelings. I regret being such a _brat_, but it's too late to change that. It's not too late for you."

"Who does he think takes care of this _joint_ when he's not around?" Heero grumbled petulantly, almost pouting.

"I'm sure he appreciates what you do."

"No he doesn't. I bet he thinks all I do is hang around all day playing video games! He always looks at me like he's thinking I'm not doing enough, but whenever I _do_ wanna do something – he won't let me!" he called out in frustration, gripping the handlebars angrily.

"Fuck it. I'm done."

"With what?"

"Everything. I don't care. Fuck him."

She sighed, but didn't say anything more.

**To be continued...**

* * *

[i] In episode 19 of the anime, Heero looks up the assassination of the leader Heero Yuy on a colony database in a library, and finds that OZ deleted it.

[ii] Referencing Anderson, Benedict. "Imagined communities." (1983).

[iii] Paraphrasing Anderson, Benedict in p.7 of "Imagined communities: Reflections on the origin and spread of nationalism." _Nationality and nationalism. London: IB Tauris_ (2004): 293-297.

[iv] This is a reference to Sting's "Russians", a song about the Cold War.


	7. Act One - Part 6

**Paradox**

**Act One – Part 6**

It was raining again by the time they got to her estate on the other side of the island. The two youths were soaking-wet as they stepped onto the mansion's impressive front portico: a wide platform extended as a colonnade with a roof structure over the walkway, supported by beautiful white columns. The old Thomson's house was even more impressive up-close. Heero remember a time when the place was so rundown it had resembled a haunted house. As a child, he enjoyed pretending that it was someplace thrilling and mysterious. One time he snuck inside, just to have a look, and got into trouble because he was caught after triggering the security system alarm. His dad wasn't mad; he just laughed because he found it very funny for some reason.

Once they were at the door and he had seen her home safely, Heero turned to leave. She stopped him, reaching to grab hold of his hand. He tensed, a stupid reflex, and turned back around stiffly. His eyes immediately traveled down her figure. Her light-blue dress was soaked with rain. It clung to her body, accentuating every curve. He swallowed, hard, and tore his gaze away, looking up. She was still holding his cold wet hand.

"You don't have to go home if you don't want to," she said quietly, looking up at him with a pair of intense turquoise-blue eyes. "You can stay for a while," she added carefully, "at least until the rain lets up."

He hesitated, torn between his pride (going home shamefaced because he had nowhere else to go) and his inhibitions (what would it mean – staying with her at _her_ house?). He debated the issue for a while, staring blankly at her expectant blue eyes, and finally nodded his head before he even reached a solid conclusion.

Relena smiled, obviously relieved that he had accepted her offer. Still holding his hand, she guided him into the massive mansion. She wasn't kidding; the place looked more like a museum of fine arts than a home: large portraits decorated the white walls and exclusive artifacts stood in every corner. Everything was either too bright and spotlessly white, or too lavish to be touched. He almost cringed while walking down the white halls as she led him up the grand staircase climbing to the second floor and then down a long corridor until they reached her room. Other than the security at the gate, he didn't spot one person since they entered the large house.

"It's Martha's day off," Relena said as though reading his mind. She stood in front of her room's closed door, holding the handle and smiling at him cunningly. "Too bad," she sneered, "My mother would have _loved_ this." She laughed and he smiled awkwardly. She was making him nervous. He almost regretted accepting her invitation. He must have looked quite aghast, because suddenly she burst out laughing, covering her mouth hurriedly to hide her impolite sniggers.

"You look like you're about to walk into the lion's den!" She laughed and opened the door, "Would you _relax?_ What kind of girl do you take me for?" She shook her head, smiling in amusement. He scowled, not appreciating her laughing at his expense.

"Honestly, Heero, if anyone should have been worried, it was me when you showed me to _your_ room."

"Then why weren't you?" he asked, somewhat defensively. What kind of impotent _dork_ did she take him for anyway?

"Because I trust you," she said simply, shrugging. "You're not like other boys. All they ever seem to think about is how to _cup a feel_," she scoffed.

His eyes darted towards her boobs. He didn't mean for them to do it, they just did. Her light-blue dress was still wet from the heavy downpour they encountered on the way; the fabric clung to her round bosoms. There was fire in his chest again. He hurried to look up again before she'd notice his inappropriate staring.

"...but you're different," she concluded, smiling sweetly. He wasn't so sure about that – he was actually relieved to find out that he wasn't – but he appreciated her faith in him. He walked into her room, looking around. It was more or less what he expected: a huge luxurious bedroom befitting a princess. The only surprise was that he's been expecting _pink_ while the décor was more or less gender-neutral; bland, like the rest of the house. The interior design was lavish, but insipid; it lacked a human touch. Unlike his room, which told volumes of his interests and hobbies, this room was stripped of personality. The only inviting feature in the large room was the large bay window with a cozy window seat facing the ocean; right now, it was overlooking a black abyss. Then there was the bed; a grand queen-size bed in the center of the room, facing a large fireplace and flat-screen TV above it. For some reason, he couldn't stop staring at the large bed.

"I'm going to take a shower," Relena informed him softly. She kept talking, but he couldn't really concentrate because he was still gawking at the bed.

"...get out of these wet clothes," her voice suddenly registered and he realized that she was speaking to him. Tearing his gaze away from the bed, he turned to her. She was holding up a soft white bathrobe, like the ones they gave at fancy hotels. He stared at it blankly for a moment before coming to his senses.

"There's another bathroom down the hall," she said, gesturing towards him with the robe. He then realized just how cold he felt; his clothes were just as saturated as hers. He accepted the robe silently, nodding in thanks.

"Give me your clothes," she said nonchalantly, as though she wasn't even aware of how it all sounded to him. She couldn't possibly be this naïve, right? Or maybe this wasn't such a big deal and he was just a nervous fool.

"I'll put them in the dryer," she explained, waiting.

A look of confusion crossed his face. Was she asking him to undress now, in front of her? No way. Not a chance. He didn't even take his shirt off when he went to the beach during the summer... why would he take it off now? So what if he was a boy, and an athlete... so what! He still had reasons to be ashamed. She'll see the scars. They were terrible, terrible, scars... a badge of shame branding him for life. He remembered how tears had welled in Duo's eyes when he first saw them, when he was just a little boy. Some of them were still rather fresh when his dad first took him in. They never healed; the ugliness was forever etched on his backside. He didn't want her to see. He didn't want anyone looking at him like that again.

"Come on, don't be shy," she urged him gently, looking at him with those intense turquoise-blue eyes of hers... they were irresistible. He didn't want her to think he was shy. He didn't want to be that kind of guy. He didn't want her to think he was afraid. He didn't want to be afraid, to give in to the scars. That was something from _Before_; he should be able to ignore it.

"I'll have them ready for you by the time you're done," she promised, smiling kindly as she waited to receive his wet clothes. He hesitated, nodding slowly. Maybe if he was real careful, never turning his back to her and put the robe on real fast...

He raised his wet hooded pull-over up carefully, sliding it across his smooth chest and pulling it cautiously over his head. His heart pounded, heartbeat racing. He could feel her eyes on him, studying his well-toned abdomen and chest. His hand shook as he handed her the shirt. She reached to take it, but it slipped to the floor. He leaned down instinctively to pick it up and only realized what he had done when he heard her quiet gasp.

He shot back up, his expression mortified.

She saw.

She saw the scarring on his back.

She saw the ugly. His ugly. She saw he was ugly.

The fire in his chest grew wild, consuming him from the inside. The color drained from his face. He stood naked from the waist up, holding his wet shirt, completely abashed. He bowed his head, wishing to disappear.

Relena was quiet, but he knew what she was thinking. He could tell by the silent horror in her eyes that she was piecing the puzzle together wrong, thinking that the display of drinking and insults she has seen between him and his father tonight, combined with alleged signs of neglect, was evidence of something more; something far more demeaning than a few drunken insults. He couldn't let her think that. Duo has never raised a hand against him; never. All his dad has ever done was try to help him forget about these scars, doing whatever he could to heal wounds that could never be healed.

"It's not him," he whispered, casting his gaze down to the floor in disgrace. "It's from... Before," he tried to explain, "...before he took me in."

He dared to meet her eyes again, keeping his head bowed and peeking behind his messy bangs. She was looking at him while holding a hand over her mouth in shock, watching him through a veil of shimmering tears. She was feeling sorry for him. He didn't want her pity.

"I should go," he mumbled, trying to affect an attitude of indifference as he put his shirt back on, wincing at how cold it felt against a skin burning with smothering shame.

"No, Heero, wait... I'm sorry," she hurried to apologize. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just... I'm... I'm sorry. I reacted poorly."

"It's okay," he murmured, keeping his gaze cast down to the floor. "I know how bad it looks."

She was quiet for a while, trying to think of something to say. He saved her the trouble.

"I should get going," he said and turned to the door; "It's late."

"Please don't..." she pleaded, moaning miserably; "don't bolt out like this. Heero... please."

He hesitated at the doorway, before finally stepping out of her room. "I... I'll see you at school," he mumbled, and left. He could feel her tearful blue eyes on him as he walked away. His backside was burning; it was nothing like the good burn in his chest. He closed his eyes, feeling the sting of tears. It hurt.

* * *

Heero cycled frenziedly down the dark road winding along the coastline, fighting the tears stinging stubbornly in his eyes. He was so angry, so ashamed. He was so _stupid!_ He was so _fucking_ stupid! Stupid for believing he could ever move forward, stupid for believing he could put his past behind him, stupid for pretending like _Before_ never happened! It will always be there – always! Whenever he turns around, it was always right behind. He could never just put it behind him, because it was plastered all over his _fucking backside! _He could never get close to anyone; they will all see it eventually. They will see the ugly. They'll condemn him for all the horrible ugly things he had done. They'll see him for what he really is – ugly.

What did he expect, anyway? This wasn't some_ "boy meets girl and they fall in love"_ kind of thing. It could _never_ be like that. He wasn't just a boy; he was a boy with a past, a boy with blood on his hands and scars on his back. Nothing becoming on a _princess_, that's for sure. He should stay away, and so should she. Everyone should just stay the hell away from him. He didn't need anyone. He didn't. Not his dad, not Relena... not anyone. He didn't need anyone; not if they will all look at him like that once they see the ugly.

He raised a hand up to wipe away the treacherous tears. He never cried _Before_. Duo taught him how to cry. Not right away, but at some point he just started crying. His dad had let the tears loose with hugs and kisses and they haven't quite stopped flowing since. He cried at night as a child, suffering from night terrors. He even wet his bed. He was so afraid, so ashamed... plagued by so many feelings he didn't even know how to describe, but Duo had given them names, little by little, encouraging him to speak about the pain, and he had learned. His father taught him all about the sadness, fear and hurt he felt before teaching him about love, acceptance and trust, until he learned how to cope with the rest.

So why was he crying now? Maybe because he suddenly felt that no matter how far he's come, it will never be enough. In the end, he'll always be the same ugly and filthy little boy he's always been. His dad would argue heatedly against it, but his arguments would be in vain, because Duo didn't know how truly _ugly_ he was inside. He didn't know about the blood; he only saw the scars. His dad thought he was the victim, but in fact he had hurt so many people... He wasn't just a victim, he was also the perpetrator. He had victims of his own.

It started raining again; a soft drizzle that quickly turned into a strong downpour. He rode to the light of the LED flashlight attached to his bicycle, but the bright beam barely penetrated through the dense rain. Thick fog engulfed the island. He could barely see where he was going. He focused on the yellow line painted at the side of the road, following its curves so he won't run off the road and crash into the cliffs below. Wouldn't that be a fitting end to his pathetic existence?

A dim glow appeared within the fog somewhere in the distance. It was hovering high above ground. At first he thought it was the LED light and dark mist playing tricks on him when reflected by the rain, but his LED flashlight was casting a bright yellow light, while the light radiating faintly in the distance was _green_. He stopped, bringing the bike to an abrupt halt. The good burn was back. His heart pounded in his chest. He watched carefully as the eerie green light moved soundlessly through the fog. It was heading towards the cliffs.

He had heard many stories about ghostly lights being sighted on the island, but he had never seen one for himself, and certainly not twice in one month. Eccentric Ghost Hunters often visited the island off-season, when it was almost totally bereft of tourists from the mainland, searching for evidence of paranormal activity. Unlike those obsessed with Gundam sightings, this bunch were nothing but delusional fools. But then how should he explain the odd, flickering green light vanishing and reappearing a short distance from where it had been a moment ago?

At first glance, it looked like an incorporeal glow moving silently through the dense fog; a surreal phosphorescent light that ebbed and waned like a dying flame. Then, it shifted slowly, heading towards him. He gaped in wonder, tilting his head back to look up at the misty green glow approaching without a sound, hovering ghostly above ground. At a closer look, he could make out three sources of light. Their triangular form was something he had never seen before. It looked like a three-eyed beast, a monster with two menacing slanted eyes and another rectangular light hanging above them like a crown-jewel. He sat unmoving on his bike, breathless and gripping the handlebars tightly as he stared at the apparition. It shifted again. Not a sound. It was heading slowly towards the ocean now. It hovered above the cliffs before descending silently into the water. A few minutes later, it vanished completely among the stormy waves as though it had sunk.

Heero couldn't move. Rain pummeled him from above, but he didn't even notice. He stared numbly at the black ocean below, dazed. That was no human apparition, nor was it a ghost ship. But then what was it? How could something so massive move without a sound, like a ghost? Where did it come from? And where did it go?

* * *

He came home real late, cold and dripping water on the hardwood floor. His dad was sitting in the living room watching TV, waiting for him. It was dark; only the TV light flickering across the walls. Duo sat with his feet on the coffee table, sipping a beer. When heard him come in he put the beer down and stood up, turning to him with a guilty face. His hair was wet for some reason, like he had just stepped out of the shower... again?

"Listen, uh," the man began to apologize, looking like a real miserable son of a bitch; "I... I didn't mean what I said earlier."

Heero stared blankly at the puddle of water forming at his feet. His hand was still resting on the door handle.

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled quietly and finally let go of the door, letting his hand drop and dangle limply at his side. He turned towards the staircase. "I'm going to bed," he declared tiredly.

"Heero," his father called after him softly, but he wasn't listening. He stopped on the first step, holding the wood banister and staring numbly at the stairway photo gallery. His eyes focused on a picture of his much younger self and his dad. They were standing in front of a green soccer field. He must have been nine or ten. He was wearing team uniform and holding a trophy up to the camera, grinning; a wide toothless smile of a kid who had just won his first sports match. His dad stood with one arm wrapped around him proudly, beaming at the camera. That was a good day. It felt like forever ago.

"Heero, can we just talk... please?" his father asked almost pleadingly. He was still standing in the living room, looking at him with miserable blue eyes. "Let me explain."

Heero was still gaping blankly at the photo. He sighed, tearing his gaze away to look down at his feet.

"I'm tired," he said and continued trudging wearily up the stairs. He entered his room and closed the door behind him. He was too exhausted to take a shower, even though he was so terribly cold. All he wanted was sleep. Still wearing his wet clothes, he sat down on his bed, looking numbly at the floor. Relena's school bag was still laid open on the carpet. He stared at it, feeling... nothing.

His dad knocked softly on his door. "Heero?" he called despairingly from behind the closed door. "I wish you'd tell me what's been going on with you lately. I know I haven't been around much, but I still want to be here for you when I can."

Lying slowly down on his side, Heero curled on the bed and gazed dazedly ahead at the opposite wall.

"Talk to me, Heero, please. Just... Jesus... Just tell me what's going on. Don't shut me out."

Heero lifted the blanket and concealed himself, hiding under the covers. How could he ever tell his father that the life he worked so hard to give him wasn't enough?

His father was still standing behind the closed door. He could enter if he chose to – it wasn't locked – but Duo respected his privacy. Heero knew that his dad wanted him to let him in of his own accord instead of just barging in unwelcomed. There used to be a time, not so long ago actually, when he wouldn't have minded Duo coming in after him; in fact, he would have been disappointed if he didn't answer that childish expectation. The man would sit on his bed and talk softly to him, soothing his distraught spirit. The touch of Duo's warm hand used to be enough to make him feel better, safe. But he wasn't a child anymore. As much as he longed for the physical closeness he had accepted hungrily as a child, he felt that it was no longer appropriate.

Eventually, after a long stretching silence, his dad heaved a frustrated sigh.

"I don't need this shit..." he muttered, "Teenagers are a _fucking handful_..." he grumbled irately under his breath and walked away. Under the covers, Heero closed his tearful blue eyes, trying to ignore the hurt and fall asleep. He dreamt of ominous green eyes moving through the fog.

* * *

By the time he woke up, late into the morning hours, his dad had already left the house. He hadn't mentioned anything about flying off the island today, but even when he didn't have any flights scheduled Duo still hung out with his fellow pilots at the airfield, doing maintenance work and drinking too much beer.

In the very least, the man didn't act as gay as he looked. He was a grease-monkey at heart; a regular Joe who drank too much, played poker and made dirty jokes with _the Guys_. They held a regular poker night at their house, mainly because there was no _'Mrs. Maxwell'_ to bother them. The Guys set his dad up with all sorts of women – mostly at summertime – but his dad always found an excuse to end the date early and never brought a lady home once. The Guys called him _"the eternal bachelor"_, making envious jokes about his freedom to live as he pleased. His dad would laugh along in good humor, but Heero could tell that he didn't appreciate their banter. There was a darkness in his eyes even when he laughed.

Sometimes he felt that his dad was actually a very lonely person, despite his many friends. He'd get all weird sometimes, hugging him and telling him that their little family was all he really needed. He used to appreciate those intimate moments as a kid, but now he could recognize the despair in his father's embrace and it made him feel very uneasy, like he wasn't enough.

Heero didn't bother with breakfast, but he did pay a short visit to the pantry and shoved a couple of salty snacks and two soda-pops into his school bag before leaving the house. He rode his bike to the same spot where he had seen the strange green light last night. He left the bicycle at the side of the road, leaning against a short stone fence, and headed down to the narrow strip of beach below. He had to know what was down there. It wasn't just some faulty weather buoy like the thought last time. It had to be something else. Something... more.

This small beach seemed far more forbidding than his usual spot. It was very rocky, the sand not hardly as smooth as his favorite stretch of beach. Dark rocks peeked out of the shallow water as well. He stood at the center of the narrow strip of sand between the towering bluff and the ocean, looking around. A strong wind tousled his hair wildly, howling in his ears. He thought he heard some leaves rustle behind him. He began to turn and look over his shoulder, but then someone stopped him.

"Don't fucking move," a low male voice hissed menacingly in his ear as an arm wrapped itself around his neck. Another hand shoved a gun into his left temple. He tensed, but didn't make a sound. That burning in his chest was running rampant now; the flames blazing through him zealously. Heero almost smirked. He _knew_ something was up!

"Are you alone?" the voice asked urgently.

"Yeah," he breathed the word out, struggling to speak over the tight stranglehold.

"Expecting any friends?"

"No," he answered firmly.

"No silly beach party or anything?"

He frowned at the unusual question. "No."

"Good," the voice said and then something hard was slammed against the side of his head. He blacked out.

**To be continued...**


	8. Act One - Part 7

**Author's Note:** I can't thank you enough for your reviews and favs. It really means the world to me.

To those of you wondering about Duo's side of the story – I promise that it is right around the corner (Act Two).

Thank you for your readership.

Elle

* * *

**Paradox**

**Act One – Part 7**

Heero woke up to the sound of a zipper opening hastily and a splitting headache. He couldn't see. He had been blindfolded; a soft piece of fabric was wrapped tightly around his eyes. He couldn't move either. He was laid against the cold sand, his legs tied together at the ankles and his hands secured tightly behind his back. He wriggled his wrists and fingers a bit. It felt like a thick zip-tie. His hair felt sticky and clotted. He could feel that his head was lying against a bumpy mass of tangled hair and blood. It hurt; his head throbbing terribly. So much for being able to take care of himself...

He blinked against the blindfold and looked down. A thin crack under his nose allowed him a very narrow view of the world. At first, all he could make out was a strip of white, blinded by the light, but after focusing on it for a while and titling his head slightly, he could make out the vague silhouette of a person sitting on the sand a few feet from him. By the sound of it, the man was rummaging through his schoolbag.

"Fuck... please don't tell me school-boy here isn't packing any food..." He heard his captor mumble to himself. He sounded young; caught somewhere between a boy and man. Just like him, it sounded like his voice was still coming out of the annoying voice-break period. His own voice has only recently stabled, really.

"Try the back," he said, thus giving away his conscious state. He didn't think it was relevant. He heard the boy unzip another compartment. He heard the snack wrappers crunch loudly; the boy found what he's been searching for. He also heard him pop open a soda and then slump heavily on the sand with a quiet _'thud'_. He listened to the loud crunching sounds as the boy ate through all two snacks in record time. He must have been famished. He then heard him gulp down the whole can of soda pop and finally release a content sigh.

"Man... that was a _long _time coming..." the boy muttered and threw the can away. Heero heard it land against the hard wet sand.

"Any chance you're carrying some Band-Aids?" The boy asked and even without seeing his face Heero could picture the cynical snarl on his face. For some reason, it made sense that he would be smirking at his own predicament.

"Are you injured?" he asked quietly.

"I'll live."

Heero could see more vague movement through the thin slit under the blindfold. The boy was looking through his school bag again. He pulled something else out, something bulky; a notebook probably. His name and grade were listed on the cover over a small white sticker.

"Heero Maxwell, huh?" the boy remarked, amused for some reason. Heero scowled under the blindfold, not appreciating his cynical tone. He was aware that his Japanese name didn't exactly match his Celtic surname – kids used to tease him about it in grade school all the time – but that was none of that stupid boy's business!

"Yeah, so?" he grunted, annoyed. "Don't suppose _your_ name is any better."

The boy laughed again. There was something very familiar about his laughter. "Probably not," he muttered and shoved the notebook back into the bag.

"Are you a pilot?" Heero asked; too curious to keep quiet even though he probably should. "Are you from that ship?"

"How about you save your breath on those stupid questions and save me the trouble of coming up with a proper lie?"

"Are you Alliance or OZ? Did you crash? Why are you on the island?"

"Seriously, dude, shut up. Please don't make me kill you... I ain't in the mood to kill any little boys today."

"I don't think you're any older than I am," Heero replied calmly. "And you won't kill me."

"Oh yeah?" The boy laughed at his arrogance. "What makes you so sure?"

"Cuz otherwise you would have done it by now."

"Oh, a _smartass_, are you? Great, just my luck!" He grunted and then coughed, letting out a pained groan.

"How bad is it?" Heero asked quietly.

"None of your damn business, kid."

"I can help."

"Sure you can," the boy muttered cynically. "All I haffta do is let you go, right? Yeah, that ain't gonna happen."

"So what are you going to do with me?"

"Dunno. Haven't figured it out yet."

"You could let me go. I didn't see your face."

"And you ain't gonna."

The boy fell quiet. For a while, all Heero could hear were the waves and the boy's quiet, shallow, breath; he was in pain. He tried to think of something else to say, something that would gain the boy's trust, but he came up empty. He sighed and slumped his restrained body against the moist cold sand. His limbs were beginning to ache, the cold causing his muscles to cramp. This was going to be a _long_ day...

"How bad does the tide get on this beach?" The boy suddenly asked.

Heero didn't like where this was going. "I don't know," he said warily; "why?"

"High tide ain't till evening fall, right?"

"I guess. Are you going to leave me here?"

"Yeah, guess so. You better pray to your lucky stars that someone finds you before the tide comes."

"No one really comes out here."

"Then pray that the tide ain't gonna flood the whole beach." And with those words, the boy left.

* * *

He must have dozed off despite the biting cold – surely the effects of a concussion – because suddenly he woke up with a start to the freezing touch of water washing back and forth over his legs. His feet were completely submerged, the water reaching up to his ankles. Alarmed, he jerked fully awake, looking anxiously through the blindfold. He could no longer see the faint glare of daylight filtering through the dense black fabric. The light had dimmed significantly. The sun was setting and the high tide was rising, fast.

He wriggled his numb arms and legs, thrashing against the cold sand, but to no avail. The plastic zip-ties weren't budging. Instead he pushed with his legs and moved, crawling against the cold sand and hoisting himself up the beach to get away from the freezing water. He was buying time, but chances were slim that anyone will be coming around this deserted beach.

His dad certainly wasn't coming. The man was used to him coming home late, wandering around... doing whatever. He doubted Duo even knew about his favorite spot on the island, where he spent most of his free time. His father didn't even call once; his cellphone has been completely silent in his pocket all day long. He considered trying to retrieve it somehow, but that seemed impossible.

If he was lucky and his dad was home for a change, then he would probably realize something was wrong when he won't see him in the morning. That is, if he would bother checking. Heero always slept with his bedroom door closed and Duo was usually out of the house before he went downstairs in the morning. They hardly saw each other anymore. Like most teens he was growing apart from his parent, seeking independence. His father let him be, which he appreciated on most days, but today he wished more than anything that his dad would notice his absence and start worrying. If he took much longer to notice, it would be too late.

* * *

Nightfall consumed the narrow beach in a freezing cloak of darkness. The tide has covered most of the shore. He had crawled against the sand as far as he could go, until he reached the cliffs. Using the cliff-face as leverage, Heero pushed his back against it and rose to his restrained feet, groaning at the strain. He leaned against the cold rock-face and stared unseeingly ahead through the blindfold.

No one was coming for him. He had to pull himself up by his bootstraps and find a way out of this mess.

With his hands tied behind his back, Heero felt around the gravelly surface until his fingers brushed against a sharp ridge sticking out of the rock face. The water now reached as high as his knees. Desperate, he moved his wrists frantically against the sharp rock until the plastic zip-tie was caught on the ledge. He began rubbing anxiously, trying to wear the plastic down. It was taking forever. His hands kept slipping off the small rock; he was trembling strongly from the cold. He cut himself badly but kept going. The wounds stung under the cold salty water.

He was up to his waist with water. He wasn't going to make it. He had to break his hands free before he could do the same for his legs and by then the water will be too deep. He will drown before he'll get out of these bonds. He should have thought about this hours ago! Why did he let himself fall asleep? Why did he let himself get into this sticky situation in the first place!

It was so cold. The ocean water was freezing. He could no longer feel his leg. His hands were also submerged, but still he kept grinding them against the sharp rock. The zip-tie refused to give. He stopped rubbing his wrists against the rock. There was no point. The plastic fastener was too thick and flexible. It wasn't breaking.

He stood leaning against the cliff, his bleeding hands pressed between his back and the rock, and turned to gaze blindly at the ocean that was about to swallow him. It was so cold... Even if the water will stop rising, he will still die of hypothermia in a matter of hours.

Tears flooded his eyes behind the blindfold. He blinked and they spilled; warm droplets sliding down his scratched cheeks. For some reason he thought about the pictures his dad hung on the staircase wall; a stairway photo gallery that told their shared story, eternalizing so many happy memories. He walked past those pictures at least two or three times a day, but he found it hard to recall each one. He closed his eyes behind the blindfold, trying to summon the images.

There was the one from when he had won his first soccer match; his dad had been so proud. There was one taken in front of the Statue of Liberty from when they took a trip to New York City one Christmas when he was twelve. It was a funny picture because a second after some lady took it for them a pigeon flew by and pooped on Duo's head! He laughed at the memory, a chuckle escaping his frozen lips despite his grim predicament.

There was another funny photo. One of him, no more than ten years old, seated behind the helm of his dad's Cessna. The headset and sunglasses his dad had put on him were too big, sliding down his head and nose, covering his eyes. His dad thought it was a really cute picture so he hung it on the wall.

Another photo he recalled was of the two of them on the beach one summer, back when he didn't mind hanging out with his dad all day long; that kind of stopped when he had turned thirteen. His dad must have asked someone to take a picture of the two of them by the water. They were both very tanned, wearing matching baseball caps and holding ice-cream cones as they smiled widely at the camera. That was also a good day.

There were so many good days, so many memories. One stairway wall was not enough to portray the good life he has had the privilege of living thanks to his dad. They didn't have a lot, but they had each other and that used to be enough.

He's been such a douche to Duo lately... he was so sorry. He didn't mean to be this way. He didn't give him attitude on purpose... it just happened. Now the last memories his dad would have of him will be of endless arguing and doors slammed in his face. He didn't want to die without telling his dad how sorry he was for being such a dick. He loved his father, real or not; all they really had was each other. Now he was going to die here and then his dad would truly be alone. Duo won't even have their little family to comfort him anymore. That wasn't fair! Heero wished so much his dad was here right now to fix everything, like he always did. Duo could always make things better. He was so sorry for taking it for granted. He didn't want to go out like this... He didn't want Duo to be alone... He didn't want to die!

The freezing water were now touching his chin.

"Dad..." he cried in trembling voice, feeling small and helpless; a child. A stupid child! He was so stupid. Coming out here was so stupid! Searching eagerly for danger was stupid. Now his dad will be the one to feel like he wasn't enough and that wasn't true! It wasn't true at all! His dad was everything to him. He had raised him, salvaged his childhood and filled it was so many wonderful things, so many wonderful moments. He deserved better than to be abandoned like this... he was so – so! – sorry!

"Dad!" He cried out, tilting his head up to the heavens. The icy ocean water surrounded his face. He will be underwater in a matter of minutes. He rose on his tiptoes, trying to buy a little more time. He wished he could see the stars, but the blindfold was still firmly in place. The cold water overflowed above his head, covering his face. He squeezed his eyes shut. This was it. Time to pay up for the all wrong he had done, for all the times he had pulled the trigger without question.

"I'm so sorry..." he whispered and salty cold water poured into his open mouth. He coughed, gurgling and sputtering salty water. "I'm so sorry, daddy..." he wept and let go, allowing his body to slump and sink into the water. There was no point holding on anymore. He deserved this; it was okay... dying would be okay, a fitting punishment. He should let go.

A pair of hands thrust into the water, grabbing him under his armpits and hoisting him up to the surface. He coughed water out loudly, gasping for air.

"Heero," a familiar voice called his name anxiously. "Hold on," it urged him and he felt himself being pulled up into an embrace.

"D-Duo..." he whispered, relieved; "Dad... you came..." he mumbled hazily as the strong arms lifted him out of the water. He fainted.

* * *

When Heero didn't come to school that morning, Relena was a bit worried. She had spent the whole school day sending fretful glances towards his empty desk. She felt guilty about last night; she had chased away her only friend on the island. It was such a stupid slip of the tongue. Her father would have been terribly disappointed in her for behaving so undiplomatically. She should have been able to contain her shocked response; it should have been obvious that Heero carried a burden as horrible as the story behind the scars on his back. He was a deeply troubled boy; distant, disheartened and frail even, all for a good reason. Now she knew what that reason was. She wanted to make amends for hurting his feelings.

She waited all afternoon to see if he would join the team for soccer practice, but he didn't show up then either. Then she became really worried, feeling that she shouldn't have let him leave in the middle of a rainy night. What if he never made it home? What if something happened to him on the way?

After school, she asked her driver to take her to Heero's house. His bike wasn't in its usual place by the porch. His dad's red pickup wasn't there either. No one was home.

She tried Heero's beach next. The sun was already setting into the ocean, sending faint golden rays of light towards the flaming cliff-face. Standing on the edge of the tall bluffs, she looked down at the panoramic beach below, trying hard to see under the illusive twilight. There was no sign of Heero or his bike. Dispirited, Relena got back in the car. Heading further down the road towards her home, she wondered where Heero could possibly be.

Darkness masked the view of the ocean. She looked out the backseat window, gazing wretchedly at where the headlights illuminated the side of the winding ocean road before the light was swallowed by the endless black. Then, just a couple of miles away from Heero's beach, she spotted his bike at the side of the road. The headlights touched them for only a second, but she recognized them in heartbeat. They were leaned against a short stone fence. She asked her driver to stop and back the car.

Stepping out of the luxury vehicle, the howling wind tousled her long hair wildly, lifting her dress. She pushed the bellowing fabric down with both hands, looking around nervously. She was standing close to the fence. Beyond it, the ground dropped steeply towards a raging black ocean.

"Heero!" she called over the wind. "Heero!"

Only the rustling waves answered her call.

"He must be down there!" She moaned, turning around to face the car. Her driver had also stepped out of the car and she turned to him in desperation.

"He could be injured," she cried. "We have to get down there!"

"It's too dangerous," her driver said, pulling out a cellphone from his suit's pocket. "I'll call nine—"

A dirty hand flung up from the chasm, grabbing the edge of the cliff. It was joined by another filthy and bloody hand. Both Relena and her driver watched, stunned, as a figure pushed itself up shakily from the abyss and crawled onto the small patch of ground just behind the fence.

"Heero!" Relena called out in relief and hurried to climb over the fence so she could get to him. The boy was standing supported on all fours, his arms and legs trembling strongly. He kept his head bowed towards the ground, panting loudly; his wild bangs flapping strongly with the wind. His blue jeans and jacket were soaked with water and smudged with dirt. There was blood clotted in his hair, as well as around his wrists.

"Heero! What happened?" Relena asked as she took a knee next to him, placing a gentle hand over his trembling back. "Did you fall? Are you okay?"

He coughed, struggling to catch his breath. Groaning, he pushed off the ground with both hands and turned to sit. When he finally raised his head towards her, she gasped, shocked at the sight of his bruised face and blood-clotted hair. The left side of his head seemed to have taken quite a blow.

Heero blinked, blinded by the headlights pointed at him, and raised a filthy hand to wipe the sweat off his brow. She noted the red and bloody welts around his wrists, where his wet jacket no longer covered pale skin. There were gory scratches as well, as though he had rubbed his wrists against something sharp and muddy, like a rock. She turned to him, alarmed.

"Heero, what happened?"

"I fell..." he mumbled, coughing quietly as he struggled to catch his breath. Relena studied him pensively. A fall could account for the injuries on his head – he could have blacked out from the fall and woke up to the tide – but what about the welts around his wrists?

"Are you sure?" she asked worriedly; "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah... I..." he slurred dazedly, his teeth chattering. He was trembling, cold. She had to get him out of the freezing wind.

"Come on," she said and wrapped her arms around him, helping him up. They made their way slowly over the stone fence.

"We'll take you to the medical center. You need help."

Heero shook his head weakly and pulled away. "No... I'm... I'm okay. J-just... Just t-take me home... please."

She studied his face closely, feeling torn. She wanted to help him; she just wasn't sure how.

"Maybe we should call your dad," she offered carefully.

"No," he said sternly and lifted his bike away from the fence. He held onto the handlebars tightly, staring at the gory welts around his wrists. "It's okay," he mumbled dazedly; "I'm okay."

He turned his bike towards the road, but she stopped him, placing a hand on the stem.

"Alex can put those in the trunk for you," she said softly. "Come on," she whispered, smiling warmly and gently pried his fist off the handlebar. "We'll take you home."

She walked him to the car. His movements were stiff, painful. He settled heavily into the backseat, moving carefully. He sat down, keeping his head bowed low. Her driver put his bicycle in the large trunk and walked back into the car, driving off. Relena observed Heero worriedly as they drove into town. He didn't say anything more, just kept looking at his bloody fingers with a pair of numb and empty blue eyes.

* * *

When they pulled into the small driveway in front of the modest old country house, Heero didn't spot Duo's red pickup at the front. His dad wasn't home yet. He felt disappointed, but maybe it was for the best.

He stepped out of the car mumbling a quiet "thanks" and closed to the door behind him. He limped towards the trunk and pulled out his bike with great effort; every muscle in his body was cramped and aching. Using the bike for support, he made his way slowly to the house one painful step at a time, rolling the bicycle with him.

Relena's car didn't drive off yet and he could feel her worried eyes on his aching back. He stopped by the front porch, laying his bike against the stairs leading up to the house. He turned to the car, his eyes searching for the backseat window. He gave a small wave for goodbye, trying to smile a little despite the agony pulsing in his bloody and cut-streaked face. A moment later, the car pulled out of the driveway. Heero watched it speed down the dirt road and into the night. He fished a set of keys out of his soaking-wet jeans and entered the house.

He wasn't sure how he got out of the water. He thought maybe his dad came for him – he could have sworn he had heard his voice – but when he woke up on a small shelf of rock bulging out of the bluff, he was alone. Someone had cut the zip-ties to free his limbs and left him there, safely above water level. It couldn't have been his dad, because Duo would never leave him there like that. He assumed that the mysterious boy came back for him, but he could not fathom why. Why leave him for dead and then rescue him?

He was rather thankful that his dad wasn't home. Had he been there Heero probably wouldn't have been able to control himself and would have done something embarrassing like _hug_ the man the minute he saw him. That would have turned on a few red lights and Duo would have started fretting again, fussing over him and asking too many questions. It was probably for the best that his dad was out tonight.

That in itself was strange, because unless he was working off-island, his dad was usually home at night, making dinner, folding laundry and stuff like that. His father always complained that he didn't help enough around the house. The place was always so damn dusty and messy, he groused, and the least he could do was clean up after him and stop leaving empty snacks, crumbs and soda-pops all around the house. The asshole easily forgot that _he_ did most of the house chores and he never once complained. He was used to it. He had spent half his childhood following orders, and household chores were just a few out of many. He performed his tasks around the house quietly and dutifully; maybe that's why Duo found it so easy to forget who took care of things while he was away.

Everything hurt as he made the climb upstairs to his room, stepping slowly and leaning heavily against the banister for support. He stopped for a moment, gazing at the photo gallery on the wall. He ran his eyes over every picture, committing it to memory so next time he won't forget. His gaze stopped to focus on the picture of him and his dad after he had won his first match. They looked so happy; and that was saying a lot considering it was taken merely two years after Duo took him in. In two short years his dad managed to take a reserved, frightened and desolate little boy and turn him into a kid who cared enough to give his best out on the playing field, feel his chest swell with pride at the victory and smile beamingly at the camera while hugging his dad tightly. Love was a powerful force. Duo's love saved him. He was such an ungrateful bastard, wasn't he? Always searching for something _more_. This life should be enough. It was more than he could have ever hoped for, so why was he so eager to toss it away?

Sighing, Heero turned away from the photo and plodded up the stairs. He took a long hot shower and washed the blood off his hands, watching the red water circle down the drain. Something inside him numbed, turning cold. The feeling of blood on his hands... the guilt... it was so overwhelming that he simply shut down. An emptiness crept inside; familiar and cold. He dressed his own wounds – something he hasn't done since he was little – staring blankly at his handiwork through glassy blue eyes.

* * *

Heero woke up the next morning with a congested nose and a sore throat. Feeling a fever coming on, he took a couple of cold-medicine pills and walked down to the kitchen. His dad wasn't home, but that wasn't unusual at this late morning hour. He made himself a hot cup of tea, gazing numbly out the kitchen window overlooking the Great Salt Pond. It was a cloudy day, but it wasn't raining for a change. He stared at the large bay until his vision blurred. He wasn't really looking at the view. That boy was still out there. He had to find him. He had to know why he came back for him.

Opening a drawer, Heero picked out a large and deadly-looking kitchen knife. He studied the knife with numb blue eyes, turning it until it caught the light from the window, gleaming. He won't be going in unprepared this time.

He tucked the knife into a strap he had tied above his right ankle. He recalled this feeling, the cool touch of a weapon against his skin. This was how life _Before_ felt like: hard, cold, heartless – nothing burned.

He left the house and got on his bike, heading back to the rocky beach.

* * *

He left his bike by the stone fence at the side of the road and climbed over the hedge. He walked to the precipice, looking down at the beach. Surprised by what he saw there, he quickly hunched down low, throwing himself to the grassy ground. He crawled carefully towards the edge of the cliff, hidden by the tall blue-grass, and took a closer look.

Soldiers were scouting the small strip of beach. He spotted a large combat-rubber-raiding-craft waiting by the water – they came from the battleship!

A middle-aged man in officer uniform stood by the raft, observing his troops. Heero recognized his dress uniform as OZ. A low-ranking soldier approached the CO, reporting something to him. Heero could just barely make out the words carried by the wind:

"Any word from the inland team?" the CO asked.

"We traced rumors of the sightings to the airfield," his subordinate replied; "Recon team also came up empty, sir. They're heading back now."

Heero frowned warily. The airfield? That thing he saw last night came from the airfield?

"Alright, pack it up. We're done here. Let's not overstay our welcome, Private."

"Yes, sir."

He watched the troops pack up their gear, clearing any evidence of their stay on the beach and loading it onto the raft. Something rustled behind him and Heero quickly turned back around, rolling over on the grass and straight into a rifle's barrel pointed at him. He gasped quietly, his eyes darting up. Five OZ soldiers stood towering over him, fully geared and armed.

That would be the inland team, he realized with a weary sigh. He raised his hands up slowly in a gesture of surrender. This was going to be another _long_ day...

* * *

**To be continued...**


	9. Act One - Part 8

**Act One**

**Part 8**

The recon team dragged him down to the beach and ushered him to their CO at gunpoint. The man wasn't pleased by the intrusion. He was cuffed, searched – his knife apprehended – and was then forced to board the raiding raft along with the rest of the troops.

"Wait, you can't just—" he protested but then a soldier pointed a gun to his head and he fell silent. Two other soldiers pushed the raft back into the water and jumped on board. They sailed away, heading for the battleship waiting in the near horizon.

He gaped in wonder at the massive ship as they approached. It rose at least ten stories high above sea level. The raft was hoisted up with cables. As they neared the top deck, Heero could see the menacing heads of at least a dozen mobile suits – Aries and Leo models. He watched, awed, as more and more of them was revealed as the raft was pulled up to the deck. He was yanked up to his feet, his hands still cuffed behind his back, and was forced to march down the flight deck. He looked up at the massive mobile suits as he was guided by two soldiers walking behind him with guns loaded. The suits were _huge_. He has never seen one up close. There was this one time – _Before_ – but he was never this close. The fire in his chest sparkled back to life. He couldn't tear his eyes off of the powerful machines.

He was brought below deck, ushered through narrow metal corridors until they shoved him into a small room with a table and two chairs; an interrogation room. He was pushed forcefully into a chair and his hands were freed from behind his back before they were chained to a hook at the center of the table. The soldiers left, slamming the door behind them. Silence fell.

Heero looked around the featureless room: gray walls, no fixtures aside from another chair opposite of his. He waited, staring blankly at his cuffed hands.

Nothing happened for about an hour or so. He tapped his fingers nervously on the table, losing his cool. How long will they make him wait? What were they going to do with him?

Finally, the door opened again. Heero looked up and saw a man walk into the room, carrying a cardboard dossier. He was a tall man, dressed in elite OZ uniform: a red military tailcoat, white slim-fitted trousers and shiny black knee-high boots. A cascade of lush platinum blond hair bounced against his back as he marched inside. And, if the long hair wasn't weird enough, he was wearing a helmet-like silver mask. What the _fuck?_ Was this some kind of sick psychological-torture thing, trying to make him feel intimidated or whatever, because in all honesty – he was doing his best not to snigger.

The high-ranking officer pulled out a chair and sat down in front him. The man placed the dossier on the table and turned to him, studying his face quietly behind the eerie mask. He could see his eyes through the eye-holes; they were a cold cerulean-blue. Sharp, like a blade.

"I am Colonel Zechs Merquise and I am the commander of this vessel. State your name, please," the man requested coldly. His tone was calm, quiet... unsettling. He sounded young.

"Uh, Heero... Heero Maxwell," he replied uneasily, trying not to fidget under the man's unnerving gaze. He usually wasn't this nervous, even under pressure, but there was something about this young man that made him... anxious. Maybe it was the mask. It was freaky. He no longer felt like laughing.

"Is that your real name?" the officer asked sternly and Heero frowned at the odd question. Why would he ask such a thing? What did he know?

"Is Zechs Merquise your real name?" he retorted, trying to affect a cold sneer of insolence. It helped him keep his cool even though he was faltering under the stress. He was in big trouble, wasn't he? This wasn't like getting caught breaking into the old Thomson's house; this was some serious shit.

The man's lips quirked into a dark smirk; he seemed amused by his attempt at impudent indifference.

"How old are you, Heero?"

"Fifteen," he replied truthfully. It would be best not to lie unless he absolutely had to. Odin had taught him that. The truth was preferable, he had said; when used correctly, it was much more efficient than a lie.

"Why weren't you at school then?" Col. Merquise asked, snarling coldly behind his mask.

Heero shrugged dismissively.

"It's boring," he said.

The officer leaned forward, placing his hands on the table and entwining his white-gloved fingers firmly.

"What were you doing at that beach, Heero?"

"I like hanging out at the beach," he replied evenly, looking into the man's eyes through the strange mask. He did his best to keep his facial features hard; expressionless.

"Yes, I know," the colonel confirmed his claim and leaned back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Four miles down the road," he added cagily; "Where the cliffs look like they're on fire. I've seen you frequent that beach, along with the Darlian girl. Why were you at a different beach today?"

"Have you been watching me?" he wondered out loud, the words slipping from his mouth without care. He then remembered that the battleship appeared by the island just when Relena showed up. He frowned warily.

"Or are you tagging _her?_" he asked, scowling; "Why are you here? Why Block Island?"

"What were you doing on the beach, Heero?" the colonel ignored him and repeated the question.

He chose his words carefully and then replied: "Ghost hunting."

Zechs heaved a quiet sigh. "I am not a very patient man, Heero," he warned. "My time is valuable. I suggest you answer my questions truthfully."

"I am."

"Why were you carrying a weapon?"

"It's a_ kitchen_ knife," Heero grumbled petulantly.

"Knives kill."

Heero kept quiet. He cast his gaze down, staring silently at his restrained hands. Annoyed with him, the man reached to grab his cuffed hands and tore off the bandages from his wrists.

"How did you procure these injuries?" he asked sternly, tugging his cuffed hands forcefully.

Heero didn't even wince. He turned his glowering eyes to glare at brazenly at the officer. "Rock climbing," he said in a deadpan voice.

"Don't test me, boy," Zechs warned, jerking his hands roughly. "The bruising on your face – how were you injured?"

He cast his gaze down for effect and mumbled: "My dad drinks too much." It wasn't a lie, and the implications might work in his favor.

The masked man studied him tensely, trying to decide whether or not he was telling the truth. He wasn't buying it, so Heero turned around slowly, as much as the restraints allowed him, and presented his back to the man. He waited anxiously. The officer stood up and circled the table briskly. He grabbed Heero's hooded shirt at the bottom and yanked it up, exposing his scarred backside.

Heero grimaced, closing his eyes shamefully as the man studied the scarring quietly for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Zechs heaved a long sigh and pulled the shirt back down. He went back to his chair and Heero turned to face him again keeping his gaze downcast.

The officer reached for the file folder he had placed on the table earlier and opened it. He pulled out a photograph and shoved it across the table so Heero could see. He looked up, studying the photo mutely. It was a picture of an Asian boy about his age – dead and blue, lying on a metallic autopsy table.

"Do you know this boy?" The colonel asked after letting him examine the photo quietly. Heero gaped numbly at the photo.

"No." He finally stated and raised his head to glare at the officer. "I don't."

"This boy died four months ago fighting an OZ convey on the Siberian plane," the man informed him hardheartedly.

"Did you kill him?" He couldn't help but wonder.

The officer ignored the question. "He was piloting a winged Gundam," he said as he placed the photo back in the dossier. "Imagine our surprise when we discovered that the pilot was no more than a_ boy_... your age. I believe that he was also named Heero."

"It's a popular name," the boy pointed out dryly.

"Yes, especially in space."

"So now you're going after every fifteen-year-old named 'Heero' on the planet?" he retorted nastily, scoffing. The officer stared him down firmly.

"Only the ones who hack into the UESA intelligence database in one afternoon," he retorted and drew another photo from the folder, holding it in front of Heero. It was a surveillance camera picture from the public library, showing Relena and him in front of a computer.

Heero grimaced and looked away, feeling stupid. He never accounted for the surveillance cameras... that was stupid. Odin taught him better than that! Seven years living with Duo and he forgets all about the basics? What an embarrassing amateur mistake!

"You're quite skillful," Zechs remarked coldly. "Care to tell us why you're working with the Darlian girl?"

"...I was only doing her a favor," he mumbled and looked away, losing his confidence. He was in over his head, wasn't he?

"Hacking into a government database is quite the favor," the man pointed out sternly. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Heero frowned, confused. "Friends, I guess..." he mumbled, shifting uneasily in his seat; "We hang out."

"And your intentions towards her?"

Heero looked up again, scowling. What the fuck? Was this man going to give him the big _"what's your intentions towards my daughter"_ speech? Seriously?

"I don't see how that's any of OZ's business," he replied coldly, lifting his chin up spitefully. "If it's high school drama you're after, then you definitely have the wrong kid."

"You know who she is," the colonel claimed boldly.

"I know who she _thinks_ she is."

"Did you report your findings to your superiors?"

"What _superiors_?" Heero snarled rudely.

"Did you tell anyone about her? Were you asked to protect her?"

"No... What do you want from me anyway? You can't just kidnap American citizens as you please!"

"You'd be surprised at how wide OZ's jurisdiction can be." Zechs smirked behind the mask. "You see Heero, I would very much like to believe you that you're just some kid and that this is all a _big mistake_ that's going to cost me my job when your government finds out we've detained you, but so far you haven't managed to convince me that you're as innocent as you claim."

"Circumstantial evidence," Heero muttered irately. "You got nothing on me."

"That's because there isn't much to get," the officer replied smoothly, leaning casually into his chair and crossing his legs. "Tell me, Heero, where did you and your father live before coming to the island seven years ago? Because from what I could gather, you two just appeared out of thin air one day."

Heero glared at him fiercely, trying to mask his inner turmoil. If he told the man that they were from space it would only serve to incriminate him further. He knew his dad had built a sketchy background story, leaving a trail of papers, but he never asked what it was! Duo never told him what to say if anyone asks; he just instructed him to avoid the subject altogether. His dad never took into account that he might be interrogated by OZ one day, and why should he? Damn, but he was in some deep shit! He had to get out of here...

His gaze traveled down to the man's sidearm, tucked into a holster around his waist. If he could somehow get out of these cuffs... no, that wasn't possible. Maybe he could lure the man closer and flip the table over to knock him out... no, that won't work either because of that damn helmet! He was out of options. It didn't matter anyway. Killing the man would accomplish nothing; it would only get him into more trouble.

"Have you been training on the island?" Col. Merquise demanded to know; "is your dad actually your CO?"

Heero almost laughed. Oh, Duo would _love_ that! Then he could _really_ boss him around!

He tore his gaze off the weapon and turned to the masked man, smirking impishly.

"He's just my dad."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe," the officer muttered.

"That would be your problem, not mine."

"Where did you stash your suit, Heero?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"We saw it go into the water the other night," the officer informed him heatedly; he seemed to have finally lost his cool. "Is it at the beach? Buried underwater?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

"Then you're an idiot."

"We already have the Winged Gundam. We know these suits can avoid radar and function underwater. It's only a matter of time before we find your suit as well. I have Pisces and Cancer suits scouting the water as we speak. We'll find your Gundam."

"Good luck with that, because I don't have one. I don't know anything about any _Gundam_."

"I think you do," Zechs insisted. "We've intercepted some of your internet traffic. The word _'Gundam'_ has been coming up a lot lately, as well as MS design specs. You've been searching for parts, haven't you? Trying to fix your own suit."

Heero couldn't help himself, he laughed in the officer's face. "Yeah, sure..." he snickered cynically; "Model kits... I like building MS _model kits_."

Even with the eerie mask, the man seemed stupefied.

"Gundam model kits?" he mumbled, bemused.

"Yeah... sort of," Heero muttered disdainfully. "They're pretty hard to come by so I've been trying to get all sorts of parts to build my own model. That's why I was looking at specs."

The officer sighed and sunk into his chair. "Toy Gundams..." he muttered in dismay.

"Model kits," Heero corrected defensively.

"Right," Zechs sighed, shaking his head. He stood up and collected the photos from the table, placing them back in the folder.

"You can lie all you want, boy, but I know you were storing it in the airport hangar."

An image popped into his head: his dad standing at his bedroom doorway with a jumpsuit all covered in grease. He frowned. What did this mean?

The masked OZ officer was still talking:

"...We couldn't do much about it while it was on the island, but now that you've hidden it under water, I _will_ find and procure your suit. I'll drag it all the way across the maritime border if I must."

"You can try," Heero grunted insolently, "But I'm not hiding anything."

"I doubt that," Zechs stated coldly and walked to the door. Opening it, he turned to the guard standing outside and said:

"Put him in the brig."

"Hey!" Heero shot up from his chair, yanking his cuffed hands against the chain holding him to the table. He coldly glared at the officer's stiff backside.

"You can't do this," he called; "I'm telling you – you have the wrong guy!"

The colonel stood at the doorway for a moment, his back turned to Heero, but he didn't say anything. Eventually, he left. Two soldiers walked in after him and took Heero away.

* * *

Sitting in his wide and lavishly furnished quarters, Colonel Zechs Merquise sat at his desk, watching a monitor displaying CCTV feed from the brig. His mask rested on the table in front of him. He watched with a pair of sharp cerulean-blue eyes as two soldiers escorted the boy, Heero, into a cell and locked him behind bars. The boy stood in the middle of the cell, somewhat dazed, before he sat down on the cot and just gaped dully at the bars in front of him. Zechs frowned, waiting to see what he would do.

The cabin door opened and in walked a female officer in dress uniform similar to his own, only her tailcoat was navy-blue. She approached his desk, scowling angrily.

"You locked him up!?" she asked admonishingly.

"Yes," Zechs replied calmly, still looking at the monitor.

"What the hell for?" she demanded harshly.

"I want to see what he's going to do about it."

"What _can_ he do about it? He's just a kid for crying out loud."

He turned to her, smiling sadly. "They're all _just kids_, Noin."

Lieutenant Lucrezia Noin sighed and took a seat on the sofa opposite to the desk. She crossed her legs and her arms, looking at him closely. "You really think he's one of them?"

"I'm not sure yet," Zechs admitted and turned back to the monitor, looking warily at the boy; he still hasn't moved.

"But there's something... _off_ about him," he said, frowning. "Any normal kid would have been scared." He turned to Noin, his blue eyes burning intensely. "He isn't scared. If anything, he was agitated, angry at his own helplessness. Did you see how he was eyeing my sidearm? He was thinking about apprehending my weapon."

"But he didn't," she pointed out sternly, "and you know why, Zechs? Because he's just a _kid_. A messed up kid from a broken home, but just a kid. It's not our job to pick him up... leave that to social services."

"Do you honestly believe his story about the abuse?"

"I think it makes more sense than assuming he's a Gundam pilot, yes."

"His dad doesn't beat him up," Zechs determined and Noin quirked a curious eyebrow.

"How do you know?"

"Because he isn't scared of him," the young man stated thoughtfully, looking at the boy through the monitor. "I could tell by his reaction when I mentioned his father. He got these scars elsewhere."

"That still doesn't make him a Gundam pilot," she argued, "just a kid who's been through a lot."

"He knows something," Zechs insisted. "There's something going on in that house, Noin."

"I agree, but this kid doesn't know anything about it."

"Do you believe his cockamamie story about the model kits?"

"Yes, I do. My nephew is into those things. It's a popular hobby among young boys."

"Do you think I'm barking up the wrong tree?"

Noin smiled artfully. "I think you're acting this way because you saw him with _her_," she established, smirking; "you've spent so much time looking at that island that you're seeing what you want to see... or not. I see your face when those two are at the beach. I bet you'd fire a missile at the island if you ever see him kiss her..." She sneered.

"This has nothing to do with Relena," Zechs muttered.

"Of course not."

"It's this boy..." he said, studying the monitor with a frown; "There's... something about him. I could be wrong, but I have to make sure."

Noin sighed and stood up. "The longer we keep him here, the deeper trouble we'll be once we let him go."

"He won't tell anyone."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he's already hiding something. We just have to find out what it is."

* * *

It was nighttime. Of course, Heero could only assume that, because there were no windows in his cell. Something in the air just felt like it was very late. The lights seemed dimmer somehow. He has been sitting locked in a cell for hours. At first, he was anxious. Then he was angry, restless. Afterwards he just felt helpless.

Sitting on the small cot in his cell, he started thinking; mostly about his dad and the implications of what that masked officer had said. Could it be that Duo was actually—? _Nah..._ That was preposterous. But then again, Duo _has_ been acting strangely since the war began, and he's been away a lot more these past few months...

No. That was stupid. This was his dad they were talking about! The idiot couldn't possibly be one of those fearsome Gundam pilots everyone was so scared of... he hardly looked the part. He was his _dad –_ the klutz with the silly braid! The goof who'd do _anything_ to get a laugh out of him; the careless guy who used to tell him to forget about his homework and come play with him in the back yard until sundown; the man who spent a whole damn afternoon trying to find his ticklish-spot when he was little and then wouldn't let go until he had nearly choked laughing his lungs out. Come on! There was _no way_ Duo could be anything like those pilots! There _has_ got to be a better explanation. This was so crazy!

He heard a heavy door open, followed by quiet footsteps. Someone was coming. He stood up, tensing readily, his fists clenched at his sides.

A young soldier approached his cell, holding a food tray. He was a tall, slender boy – no more than sixteen years of age. A cadet, probably. OZ enlisted them young.

"Come forward," the cadet said; his voice was low and very quiet, like a whisper. The boy knelt down, placing the tray on the floor by the bars. He kept his head bowed as he said in a quiet monotone voice: "Kneel down. Lean close to the bars."

Heero studied the kneeling boy for a moment, frowning thoughtfully. It looked like the boy didn't want the surveillance cameras to see their faces, most likely so that whoever was watching won't be able to read their lips. He did as he was asked and walked to the bars, crouching before the young cadet. He examined the boy's stoic face carefully. He really couldn't be much older than him. Long brown bangs fell over his face, concealing one of his emerald green eyes. His flat, emotionless affect was unnerving. His one visible green eye seemed devoid of anything human.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" Heero whispered in quiet awe, keeping his head bowed towards the floor. The boy began handing him the food through the bars, keeping his head low as he spoke:

"You're not the first 'Heero' I've met," the boy said flatly, thus confirming his suspicion. "Tell me," he opened coldly, raising his head up to pin Heero's eyes with his deadpan gaze. "Did you see him?"

Heero hesitated. He wasn't sure if he should trust the boy. This could be an OZ trick, trying to gain his trust by sending in someone his age.

The cadet scrutinized Heero carefully with a piercing green eye. "Is he alive?"

Heero studied the boy's blank face for a moment. The sizzling in his chest told him he could trust him. He went with that feeling.

"I think he was badly hurt," he finally said.

"But did you _see_ him? Did you see his face? Can you describe him to me?" the cadet (Gundam pilot?) repeated his question more urgently. Heero frowned at the odd question.

"Uhm, no," he muttered; "He didn't let me see."

The other boy nodded slowly. "When was that?" he asked.

"Two days ago," Heero answered quietly. The cadet stood up, taking the tray with him. Heero rose to his feet as well. The other boy nodded curtly, just once; a wordless 'thank you'. He turned to leave.

"Hey!" Heero called after him, gripping the bars. "Are they going to let me go?"

"I wouldn't count on it," the cadet said quietly, his back to the cell. "I hear the colonel has plans for you," he added coldly and left the brig. Heero remained by the bars, looking at the empty corridor. Okay... now he was kind of scared. He really wished his dad was here to get him out of this mess.

* * *

Two soldiers dragged him out of the cell first thing in the morning. He was brought back to the interrogation room. This time, there was only one chair by the table; a hefty wooden chair with thick handles. They forced him to sit on it and secured his hands to the armrests. The soldiers left. Alone in the room, he jerked his arms forcefully, trying to break free, but his resistance was futile. What was the point anyway? He could never get off the battleship; he would end up dead if he tried.

The masked officer from the day before walked into the room. He was accompanied by a female officer in a similar getup and a military doctor. Heero watched carefully as the man placed a small med-kit on the table and opened it. There were two syringes and two vials full of clear liquid. The MD prepared the first shot and Heero's eyes darted dreadfully towards the masked officer.

"What's this for?" he asked nervously.

"To get some answers," Colonel Merquise replied coldly. The female officer seemed uneasy, like they shouldn't be doing whatever they were planning.

The doctor approached him, holding a syringe and a cotton-ball soaked with antiseptic liquid. He smeared the cold fluid on his upper arm, ready to administer the shot. Heero tensed at the cold touch against his arm, his whole body going rigid. He wriggled in his seat, but the MD steadied him with a strong hand.

"Have you ingested any drugs, alcohol or medication in the past twenty-four hours?" the man asked sternly.

"Uh... n-no," he stuttered, confused and afraid. He watched the needle press against his skin and closed his eyes, bracing himself.

"Are you certain about this?" he heard the doctor ask. Thinking he was talking to him, Heero opened his eyes again, but the man was addressing the masked officer.

"He's very young," the doctor pointed out; "I can't guarantee this dose won't kill him."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," the officer stated calmly. He was looking at Heero as he said: "Do it."

The needle went in and the plunger was pushed down. Heero gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching. A moment later, it went slack, numbing. His upper arm brunt. Everything numbed. His body slumped forward in the chair. He felt woozy... fading away.

"We've injected you with a truth serum," Zechs informed him; his voice sounded like a faraway echo. "Very powerful," he said. "Are you feeling its effects?"

He nodded, keeping his head bowed low, chin against chest. His head swimming. He wasn't even sure he moved.

"...yes..." he slurred, feeling heavy. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Everything swirled in slow motion. He felt sick.

"Tell me your name again, please," the officer requested coldly. His voice sounded muffled, incoherent.

"Heero..." he murmured drowsily, "Heero Maxwell..."

"Is this your real name?"

"No..." he moaned, "but it's the only one I ever had..."

The two officers exchanged a look.

"Where are you from, Heero?" Zechs asked.

"...space..."

"Where exactly?"

"...all over... I dunno... We never stayed in one place too long..."

"Your father and you?" Noin asked to clarify.

"...no..." Heero shook his bowed head weakly. "It was... Before... Before Duo... I don't feel so good..." he moaned, coughing sickly. The doctor turned to look worriedly at Zechs. The young officer ignored him and kept his eyes on Heero.

"Who were you traveling with?" he asked.

"...Odin..." the boy slurred the name heavily; "Odin Lowe..."

"The assassin?" Noin marveled.

"...yeah..." Heero mumbled, gulping. "I'm gonna be sick..." he whined, gagging dry coughs.

"Sir," the doctor warned and took a step forward.

"In a minute," Zechs ordered and motioned him to back down. He was still looking fiercely at Heero.

"What were you doing with a former OZ assassin?"

The boy blinked sleepily, trying to stay focused. "...whatever he... whatever he... he told me... to do..."

"Did you work for him?"

"...yeah..."

"Did you kill for him?"

"Y-yeah..."

"How many?"

"I don't know... I was really little... I could only count to te—!" Heero suddenly chocked, retching sickly. He vomited, heaving onto himself and the floor.

"Something isn't right," the doctor insisted. He turned to Heero. "You said you didn't take anything."

"...cold medicine..." Heero murmured through chattering teeth. His whole body was trembling violently. "I... I f-for-g-got..."

"Shit," the doctor hissed, his face paling drastically. He turned to Zechs. "I have to give him the antidote."

"One more question."

"This could kill him."

"Just one more," the young officer insisted. He knelt in front of Heero, placing a hand on his trembling knee, and looked up into the boy's bowed head. The boy's face was soaked with tears, vomit dripping down his chin.

"Why are you on Earth, Heero? What are you doing on the island?"

The boy started sobbing, weeping sorrowfully. "I go to school..." he wailed, looking at Zechs with wild, tearful blue eyes; "Like Odin told me to... I go to school... that's all... soccer and school... that's all I do now... I swear..." He sniffled, his nose running. He looked miserably at the masked officer. "I play sports and go to school... that's all..." he cried, "I'm sorry about Before... I don't do that anymore... I promise... It's just me and my dad now... I won't do that anymore... I promise..." he uttered piteously before he fell into broken sobs.

"What did you see on that beach, Heero?"

"Zechs," Noin protested tensely. "That's enough."

"Quiet," he ordered, looking intently at Heero. "What did you see?"

Heero sniffled loudly, trying to stop crying. "...a light..." he whispered in a faltering voice; "a green light... in the water... and a boy... he tried to kill me... but he didn't... that's all I know... I didn't see his face... I don't know where he is... I... I'm sorry... I... I don't know anything... I just... I want to go home..." he whimpered, sniveling quietly. Suddenly he gasped, and his blue eyes rolled back into his head. He fainted, body slumping forward limply. The doctor hurried to administer the antidote.

Zechs got up. He studied the unconscious boy tied to the chair, before heaving a quiet sigh.

"Take him back to the island," he ordered Noin and walked out of the interrogation room.

* * *

Sunset. The cliff-face at Heero's favorite beach was burning in a rich display of yellow, orange and red. Waves washed upon the shore, rustling quietly as they kissed the sand. Heero lay prone by the water, unconscious. His face and hair were soiled with muddy sand, his mouth agape and his lips blue from the cold. His hair and clothes were wet. The waves caressed his feet, washing back and forth over his dark-blue sneakers. His arms were laid sprawled lifelessly on the sand, wet soil clinging to his injured wrists.

A slim and agile figure climbed quickly down the grassy hillside, moving hastily towards the beach. It sprinted lightly over the sand, heading towards the unconscious boy. The figure stood over Heero; a black silhouette against the setting sun. Bending forward, the figure picked Heero up by his arms and dragged him away from the water.

The massive OZ battleship was anchored in the horizon; merely a dark outline against the setting sun. The sun set, disappearing into the ocean. The battleship lights gleamed faintly against the purplish sky as the first evening stars twinkled up above.

Heero woke up to the sound of fire crackling softly. He felt very ill. He was wet, but the fire kept him warm. He could hear the ocean; waves swishing against the shore. Salty ocean air filled his lungs and he coughed, almost retching. He moaned miserably, feeling nauseated.

"Man," he heard a familiar voice; "you musta _really_ pissed 'em off if they gave you that shit... That stuff is _nasty_."

Fighting for awareness, Heero struggled to open his eyes, blinking repeatedly until he managed to keep them open. His vision was blurry. He saw a campfire burning a couple of feet away. He kept blinking until he could see straight. The boy from the day before was sitting on the other side of the small bonfire; just a dark silhouette beyond the flickering flames. He was tending the fire with a long wooden stick.

"You came back for me," Heero stated in a quiet lethargic whisper. "Why?"

"You were right," the boy mumbled as he poked around the fire with his stick; "no one came looking for you until it was too late. That's really sad, dude."

Heero nodded weakly against the sand, closing his eyes sadly. "Is that why you saved me? Because you felt sorry for me?"

"What – you think I ain't got nuthin' better to do with my time than spend the whole fuckin' day watching your pathetic demise? Nah... I wasn't really gonna kill ya. It was kinda like hazing a recruit, yanno? It was a test."

Heero gaped numbly at the flames. "To learn what?"

"If you could get yourself outta that shit."

"And I failed," he stated bleakly, watching the flames.

"Yeah, big time," the boy sniggered.

Ashamed, he closed his eyes, remembering how he had cried for his father. Pathetic indeed. Fucking embarrassing. He heaved a weary sigh and turned to look at the boy sitting behind the bonfire.

"Why were you testing me?" he asked. He could see the boy's shadowy figure shrug.

"I wanted to see for myself."

"To see what?" he snapped, annoyed by the cryptic answers.

"If you're really all that," the boy answered simply.

"All that _what?_" Heero grunted and pushed off the sand with one arm, sitting up. He glared at the silhouette beyond the flames.

"All that you're cracked up to be," the boy replied as though it should have been obvious. "...'least that's what your dad keeps tellin' me. I guess curiosity got the best of me, sorry. I shouldn't have done that... Death by drowning totally sucks, so I hear. Please don't tell him I screwed with you like that... he's totally _pissed_ at me as it is."

Heero ignored the boy's rambling. His mind was still trying to process the first part of what the boy had said.

"My _dad?_" he marveled, confused. "What the hell do you know about my _dad?_"

"A whole lot, actually..." the boy snickered and finally moved away from the fire, standing up. No longer just a black shadow, Heero could now see the boy clearly. Looking up, he gaped at his face, stupefied. The boy looked _exactly_ like his father... only about twenty years younger. They even had the same braid!

"Wh...what..?" he mumbled, dumbfounded. "Who..?"

Fuck. Did Duo have another son – a _real_ one?

The boy grinned cockily, amused by his stupor. He gestured with his head towards him tauntingly and greeted: "Yo, wassup, bro?"

* * *

**To be continued in Act Two**


	10. Act Two - Part 1

**Act Two – Part 1**

All eyes in the room turned to the elevator as the doors opened and Agent Duo Maxwell charged ferociously into the busy office floor of Preventer's NYC Operations branch. A daunting air of darkness radiated from the grieving young man, warding off anyone who dared approach him. His hard expression was cold, but his cobalt-blue eyes were livid; they burned with silent rage. His ashen complexion and the dark circles under his eyes told of the many sleepless nights he had suffered these past few weeks, ever since he had lost his partner.

Having been put on a leave of absence, he was not wearing the standard-issue uniform, rather a pair of dark jeans and black leather jacket. His long braid was in shambles, the knots unraveling messily. Dry frizzy hair with split ends – a result of bad haircare over a substantial amount of time – perked up scruffily around his head, swaying wildly as he moved briskly past office cubicles, carrying a small cardboard moving box. No one dared speak a word to him as he stomped briskly towards the empty desk at the far end of the office floor, situated near a large wall-to-wall window overlooking Manhattan.

He slammed the small box on the desk and then froze, suddenly still. He stood tensely, staring numbly at the empty desk. The agents around him watched his stiff backside anxiously. He didn't move for a few good minutes. Finally, one agent stood up, moving away from his cubicle: Zechs Merquise. The thirty-one-year-old Preventer approached his younger colleague carefully.

"Maxwell," he opened quietly as he stood a step behind the distraught agent; his calm voice was almost soft, sympathetic. "My condolences," he said; "Heero was a formidable agent... and a good man."

"He was much more than that," Duo mumbled forlornly, gripping the empty box tightly. Zechs regarded him quietly for a moment, before nodding in agreement. He walked away, leaving the grieving young agent to the task of picking up the pieces.

Life on the busy Operations floor gradually returned to normal. The usual hustle and bustle renewed as agents turned back to their work. Duo remained motionless by the empty desk under the window, staring at it drearily.

The worktop has already been cleared by Preventer HR. The computer and monitor were gone, as well as any case-related materials that usually filled the file organizers on the desk; they were empty now.

Duo reached to open a drawer, the first out of three. It was filled with small office supplies: writing tools, post-it notes, paperclips and such. Nothing of a personal nature, except for one item – a small yellow stress-ball with a big smiley face drawn on it. It was tattered and old, the smiling face faded and worn after being squashed many times by a strong hand. Duo smiled wistfully at the little yellow ball and picked it up gently, turning it around as he held it up to his face. He stared wretchedly at the faded smile. It was a silly gift he had given Heero years ago. He placed it in the box.

Opening the second drawer, he found more office supplies: binders, folders, notepads and sheet-protectors. He rummaged through them hastily, searching of any personal effects, but he didn't find anything. He slammed the drawer shut and yanked the last one open. It was empty. Duo kicked it furiously, making a racket, and a few anxious glances were sent his way. He ignored the disapproving looks, snatched the box off the desk, turned briskly on his heels and stomped back towards the elevator, seething silently.

The smiling yellow stress-ball rolled wildly back and forth inside the otherwise empty box Duo was carrying.

* * *

Standing in front of a closed door in a narrow hallway of a Manhattan apartment building, sifting through a meager set of keys dangling from a silver-skull keychain, Duo picked a plain silver key marked by a blue plastic key-cover and slid it into the lock. The door creaked quietly as Duo pushed it open. A gush of stale air hit his face; old and dusty. It has been a long while since anyone stepped foot in the small residence.

Duo closed the door behind him and turned to face the dark living room. It was a bland and featureless apartment, scarcely furnished and very neat. Heero lived like a damn _monk_. Stripes of morning sunshine filtered through closed blinds obscuring the large living room window. Duo raised the blinds and let the light in, exposing a view of a busy Manhattan street. Bright gray light flooded the room and washed every surface, revealing weeks' old layers of dust. A thick sheet of filth covered the dark hardwood floor. Dust-bunnies rolled across the room once Duo opened the window to let in some fresh air.

He walked into the small kitchen first, carrying the moving box with him. There was one plate, one glass and one fork resting on a small dish-rack by the sink. He knew he would find one more of each in the cupboard; a second set of dishes Heero used when he came over. The countertop was spotless; the sink was clean. In the fridge he found a carton of milk and OJ that have gone bad after sitting there for too long, along with a few mold-raising vegetables that have spoiled. He pulled the trashcan from under the sink and threw them all away. He took out the trash-bag, grabbed the cardboard box from the countertop – the yellow ball still the only item inside – and walked to the bathroom.

He picked up two bottles of shampoo and shower gel from the bathroom rack. He was about to throw them away, but then he stopped and opened them, inhaling their scent deeply – Heero's musky scent. He closed his eyes, filling his lungs with the familiar odors, and smiled miserably. He took a moment to bask in the heady male aromas and finally opened his eyes; the cobalt-blue was burning heatedly. He stuffed the two bottles into the trash bag violently and turned to the vanity.

There were two toothbrushes resting inside a plain white plastic holder: one red, one blue. The blue one was Heero's, and the red one was his. Even though they've been lovers for over five years, they never moved in together. Heero was the kind of person who needed his space. The jerk didn't even give him any closet space despite the fact that he spent the night here at least thrice a week. A toothbrush was a statement more than a necessity (he could easily carry one along with the change of clothes he always kept in his car). It was his small claim in Heero's territory; a testament to their serious relationship.

He snatched the two toothbrushes and threw them into the garbage bag, scowling angrily. So much for that.

Duo then turned to open a small drawer in the bathroom cabinet and found more toiletries: razors, toothpaste, deodorant and such. He threw them into the bag as well.

There was also a small hairbrush with strands of long chestnut-brown hair tangled around its rigid bristles. He smiled a little and picked up the brush, looking at it with wistful cobalt blue eyes. Heero hated it when he used his brush and he kept on doing it just to spite him. Getting under Heero's skin was one of his favorite hobbies. He fondly recalled how Heero had grumbled that he shed like a damn dog while yanking his hair out of his hairbrush. Duo placed it in the box, along with yellow stress-ball with the fading smile.

The bedroom was next. It was a modest room, with a neatly-made queen size bed pressed against the wall in the corner because the room was so small, a single night table and a small wardrobe. He stood by the bed for a while, just gaping at it desolately. Whenever he slept over he took the side of the bed next to the wall. He didn't like sleeping while being pressed between a rock and a hard place almost in the literal sense of the word, but at least he managed to fall asleep eventually; Heero never could, so his spot was on the open side of the bed and facing the door, both here and in his place.

Sitting down on the edge of Heero's side of the bed, Duo turned to the small night table. He opened the single drawer. He found a phone charger, some off-the-counter cold medicine and painkillers, plus a box of tissue; Heero was prone to colds during winter... or he used to be. Past tense. He sighed deeply, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. Everything about Heero was now a thing of the past.

He also found a pack of condoms and lubricant gel. He smiled, chuckling quietly while tears shone in his sad blue eyes. They've had some good times fucking on this bed. They even broke the damn thing once (Heero's fault, not his; the guy fucked like an animal— _used_ to fuck like an animal). There used to be a time, back when they first got together, when a bottle of lube didn't even last the night. Sex became less frequent over the years, but on a good week they could still easily go through two whole bottles. That was why, when he reached deeper into the drawer, he found a spare bottle of lube, still in the box. They will never get to use this one.

Grimacing painfully, Duo shoved everything into the garbage bag. He closed the drawer and turned to the table top. Two items were resting there: an orange bottle of prescription sleeping pills and a book: _"Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea"._

Duo reached for the novel and picked it up gently, handling it with care as though it would crumble at the touch of his fingers. A bookmark was placed towards the middle of the thick book; it was a fancy metallic marker. He opened the novel on the bookmarked page, staring miserably at the silver card. It was engraved with a title reading: _"100 Books to Read before You Die"._

The bookmark was a gift he had given Heero about two years ago. His lover had trouble sleeping – he was quite the nightbird – so Duo thought it would be a nice quiet way for him to pass the time instead of succumbing to the destructive path thoughts tended to take at night.

Below the title was a list of fifty books and a small checkbox next to each one. Every box was marked ✓ by a black marker. Duo took the bookmark out carefully and flipped it over. There were fifty more books listed on the other side, but only half of them were checked. The rest of the checkboxes remained empty; they will always remain empty. The Old Man and the Sea was #87. Heero never made it to one hundred.

More tears welled in Duo's eyes. He held onto the fragile bookmark and cried miserably. He thought that he didn't have any more tears in him – he had cried so much over the past few weeks – but apparently he was wrong. The tears would not stop coming. He sat on Heero's bed, sobbing brokenly while clutching the bookmark to his chest.

It was a while before his crying subsided. Once he got the sobbing under control, Duo wiped his tears with the back of his hand and returned the bookmark to the last page Heero had read. He placed the old book inside the box along with the yellow stress-ball and used hairbrush. He got up and went to the wardrobe at the other side of the small bedroom.

His senses were assaulted by a violent gush of a familiar fragrance when he opened the two-door closet doors. He took a moment to simply stand there with his eyes closed, breathing in the scent of Heero's clean clothes. One side of the closet contained a column of shelves with neatly folded garments resting in well-ordered piles; denim and sweats mostly. The second half of the closet was occupied by a clothes rack and underwear drawers. Four sets of Preventer uniform were suspended tidily from wooden hangers, along with a single black suit Heero used for just about any black-tie event – business or pleasure – he had to attend, however reluctantly. He hated dressing up, even though he looked so heartbreakingly handsome in this slim-fitted suit.

Duo reached for the elegant black suit, caressing it gently. He let the tip of his fingers glide over the smooth black fabric along the blazer's sleeve, until he reached the bottom – the empty hole where the suit ended and Heero's hand was supposed to peek out of the sleeve. He stared at the empty space under the sleeve through tear-bleary eyes and realized that he will never hold Heero's hand again. He cried some more, holding onto the hollow sleeve.

They have shared a very complicated, sometimes dysfunctional relationship, defying clichés and overcoming norms and definitions. Honestly, Duo often wondered how they ever managed to make it work.

For them, love came slowly, subtly. It was years of subtle flirtations leading their deep friendship from platonic to romantic love. It took them over five years to finally get together; _five freaking years_ before they were willing to accept that they were in love – not counting the whole year of AC 195 when all they did together was wage battle. That year didn't count. It all started after the war was finally behind them.

Working as Preventers since early AC 197, after the last major conflict between Earth and the Colonies was contained, they were often partnered on various assignments because they worked so well together. They were complimentary opposites in that they brought out the best in each other, challenging the other's ways of thinking and thus encouraging the other to open his mind and look at a different perspective. They were a brilliant investigation team and remarkable Operations agents capable of coming up with the most creative, efficient and bullet-proof mission plans. They had the best track record of successfully executed "fire extinguishing" missions in the Agency.

Yet, despite their opposite viewpoints and clashing nature, they really weren't that different at the core. They were both flawed individuals who were extremely independent and stubborn, single-minded and passionate about what they believe in; they were both workaholics who chose to sacrifice their personal lives for their quest to ensure against another violent outbreak of war; and, more importantly, they have shared similar past experiences, sharing an inability to emotionally let anyone into their world. For Heero, his main defensive mechanism was to focus on his strength, refusing to show the slightest sign of weakness – denying his own humanity. For Duo, it was obsessively dedicating himself to the danger and thrill of the job, thus detaching himself from having to deal with the quiet normal.

It was a matter of nature versus heart. By nature, they viewed emotional vulnerability as a fatal mistake. They have both been scarred by their past and, given the intimate friendship they had developed over the years, they were absolutely terrified of being burned by what was gradually deepening into romantic love. Heero was the one person Duo could not lose, and Duo was the one person Heero could not lose. A rejection from the other would have been devastating, the greatest pain of all. It was easier to skirt around their feelings rather than surrender to them and risk a broken heart. Nevertheless, by the irresistible desire of the heart, they were continually drawn to each other like a moth to a flame. The sexual tension grew unbearable. One day, after an especially challenging mission they aced against all odds, they finally succumbed to desire and something began to shift, changing things between them.

Their impulsive resistance to this shift manifested itself in one-night stands. They tried to make it all about the sex, taking an almost clinical approach to it; it was just a way to relieve the tension between them, get it out of the way before it would destroy what they already had. Their relationship became complicated, so they tried to simplify it, dividing it to categories: they were partners at work, friends during off-hours and occasional fuck buddies at night.

For a while, it worked. Nothing really changed. They were still willing to risk their lives for each other, confide in each other, trust in each other above all else and fiercely fight for each other; they were also willing to offer strength when the other was at his lowest. Even so, they were afraid to take the next step. The only real hurdle they truly had to face was themselves. They've been each other's "constant" and "one and only" all along, but they needed to do away with their old selves, to break away from their own misconceptions. They needed to free themselves of the fear holding them back, the impulsive fear of failing was the only obstacle standing in their path. They were afraid to fail in the_ one_ thing they truly wanted to succeed at: loving each other. They had to break free of this fear before taking things to the next level.

Duo's release came when he was gravely injured during a mission. Something had been off with Heero's calculations and it botched up the whole mission, literally blowing up in Duo's face. He fell into a two-week coma, and he dreamt. His dream confronted him directly with his internal struggle for love. He dreamt of a life he could have if he chose to slow down and live a normal, simple life. He could settle down somewhere nice and green, maybe by the ocean, have a spouse and a fishing boat or whatever. He could live without the thrill, without the danger. He didn't have to be that person anymore. His time with Heero had caused him to grow, and through him Duo realized what a lie it would be to deny who he has become. It would be just as much of a lie to deny who has captured his heart and made him into this new person. He didn't need danger to find fulfillment and meaning in life anymore; he had Heero, and that was enough of a thrill.

Heero was by his side when he woke up, a guilty expression on his usually blank face. Duo just smiled at him, as much as his aching face allowed, and reached to hold Heero's hand gently. It was an admission of love without ever saying a word. Heero actually responded by returning the sentiment, squeezing Duo's hand tightly. Thus, love has become requited for Duo, allowing him to dedicate himself fully to his relationship with Heero. He just had to wait for him to be ready.

It felt like it was taking forever. It was impossible for Heero to fall in love when he was already in love but refusing to accept it. Duo tried to be patient, comforting himself with how Heero was unconsciously trying to get his attention. It was the little things, and they mattered the most: a touch of a hand, a jealous glare towards a flirting waitress, a barely stifled smile at one of his silly jokes, bringing him lunch when he lost himself in work at the office, a midnight call when Heero couldn't sleep...

_'What are you doing?'_ Heero would ask almost coyly.

_'Well, I __**was**__ sleeping,'_ he would yawn a reply.

_'Can I come over?'_

He would pause for effect, just yanking Heero's chain, and then say with a smile: _'Of course.'_

He tried to make it clear to Heero that there was no need to try getting his attention; he already had it. All he had to do was reach out to him, and he would hold Heero so tight and never let go.

That day came when they first started working on the case that had eventually brought on Heero's demise.

Back in AC 202 it was brought to Preventer's attention that illegal trafficking of highly experimental technology was taking place on both Earth and the Colonies. They traced the technology to the five secret laboratories used by the Colonies to design and construct the Gundams. The experiential equipment originated from the labs of the five scientists working on Operation Meteor. Upon their deaths their labs were raided by various factions and the technology was scattered across the Earth and Space. Preventer feared that the extremely advanced technology would fall into the wrong hands, as some of it has already turned up during various "fire extinguishing" missions. It was an ongoing mission for the past five years. They were constantly searching for illegal shipments, and whenever something came up they raided and confiscated sensitive cargos.

One day their sources lead them to a small cargo ship that was supposed to dock on the moon. Heero and he were sent to commandeer the vessel. They took it down and a tech-team came to sort through the smuggled equipment. It was their job to protect the engineers coming on board and ensure against any danger. Walking inside the maze of large wooden crates, searching for booby traps, Heero stumbled onto something that looked familiar: a large glass case. He was certain he had seen it before, in Doctor J's lab. Against better judgment (Heero tended to lose his cool whenever something of his past popped up), he opened it.

It was a cryogenic stasis pod invented by Dr. J. When they activated the capsule's small computer terminal, a video began playing. It showed footage of Dr. J, instructing his pupil that if he was to survive the war then he should do the right thing and place himself in the pod so that future generations may use him as a weapon if ever another conflict between Earth and the Colonies will ensue and the Colonies will require his skills.

That was the first time Duo had seen Heero's expressionless mask crack – completely. At first, he just gaped at the video screen, stunned. Then, his face slowly shifted to an appalled grimacing expression. He seemed utterly disgusted. Afterwards, he was angry, furious... _hateful_. Duo had never seen such rage. Years of pent-up resentment, hopelessness and fear exploded at once. Heero had punched the small screen repeatedly until it cracked and his knuckles bled. Then he turned to the teardrop-shaped viewing window of the capsule and smashed it with his gun until it shattered loudly. He started kicking the cryo-chamber, screaming and crying wildly at the same time, cussing J furiously. His words were angry and incoherent, but Duo could still make out some of it: Heero was angry – no, _hurt_ – that all he was ever meant to be was a weapon, utilized and stored as deemed necessary.

That night, Heero had clung almost desperately to him. For once, he had initiated such contact. He found the courage to drop his guard and allow himself to just be a person seeking comfort instead of resisting it, and Duo responded by providing it. He had held Heero all through the night, caressing his hair gently and making empty promises he couldn't keep, trying to assure him that he never was and never will be just a weapon.

That mission was to Heero what that coma-dream was to Duo. Heero was faced with who he used to be and the life he would have had if he had followed J's final order. Everything had lead them to that defining moment. They were finally both ready to love each other, no inhibitions.

At one point they even considered leaving their quest for peacekeeping behind them to create a home together and live a fairly low-key, normal life, but there were still too many aspects that remained unresolved. Maybe they each still needed to undergo an individual journey to reinforce their overall journey of growth. Whatever it was, it didn't feel right to just pack up and leave it all behind. They weren't ready.

Over the years, moving in together became a topic that came up often during their usual sparring. Duo felt it was time; Heero, apparently, didn't. He was fully dedicated to his job and failed to see why it mattered so much where they spent the night.

There was plenty more to fight about. Aside from accusing each other of being married to their work instead of investing themselves in their relationship, they fought about _everything_: from trivial things like Chinese or pizza for dinner, to more serious matters such as Heero's vaguely-platonic (or as Duo accused – borderline-romantic) relationship with ESUN senator Relena Darlian, and ending with arguments about the very nature and foundation of their relationship. Lately, their fights were mostly about moving in together. Duo was angry that even after five years of bouncing between their separate apartments Heero still didn't want to move in together. Heero on the other hand was angry that Duo didn't get that he still needed to keep some distance from time to time. Duo _did_ get it, but was no longer willing to accept it as an excuse. They argued about it the night Heero died.

Sitting in an unmarked vehicle during a long stakeout, waiting in the shadows of a tall warehouse to spot suspicious activity near a place they suspected was used to traffic illegal tech arriving from the Colonies, they got into their habitual argument about moving in. He said it was time already; Heero said not yet. He got mad.

_'Then when __**is**__ the __**right**__ time!?' _he had grumbled petulantly.

_'Easter,'_ Heero had replied calmly; too calmly, as though trying to spite him.

_'Easter?'_ Duo laughed cynically; _'Da fuck so special about Easter!'_

_'Just wait until Easter,'_ Heero insisted quietly.

_'Why? What's gonna change in the next two months?'_

_'Nothing,'_ was the annoyingly cold answer.

_'Then why Easter?'_ He pressed on, but they never got to finish that conversation, because they spotted some movement inside the building. They went in. The place was bobby trapped. They realized it too late. Heero thought he recognized something from Dr. J's lab, something he had seen as a child. He approached it with care. Nervous, Duo told him to forget about it and wait for the tech-team; he didn't want another incident like what happened with the cryo-chamber. His lover simply wasn't himself whenever he ran into something from his past with J. Heero told him not to worry, it seemed safe. It was a small device, a headset of some sort. Heero said it couldn't possibly be rigged.

But the moment he lifted if out of the box, a timer lit up, bleeping madly – a bomb was about to go off. Heero pushed him out of the way and tried to make a run for it. They didn't make it. The blast threw them across the warehouse; Heero took most of the hit. The explosion didn't kill him, but the fall they took to escape the blazing fire did. Heero's neck snapped and he was gone, just like that. After all he had endured and survived, it was such a _stupid_ way to go! It was inconceivable that _Heero_ – the fucking _invincible_ Heero! – would die such a useless and careless death! It just wasn't right. It wasn't fair!

Duo stood in front of Heero's neatly organized closet, crying silently. Tears streaked his unshaven cheeks. He stared at Heero's clothing, feeling torn. He didn't know what to do with it. He had to return the uniform to Preventer, but what about the rest? Should he throw it away? Donate it? Keep it? And what about the dirty clothes still in the bathroom hamper? Would it be terribly perverse if he kept them so he could put them next to him in bed and wrap himself in Heero's scent during the cold lonely nights?

He settled on leaving that decision for later. Instead he reached a hand deeply into the closet, searching every nook and cranny to make sure Heero didn't stash any hidden weapons. He found a small sidearm in the socks drawer. He held it gently, looking at it almost fondly. He placed it in the box because it was something personal of Heero's, probably the most personal item of all.

Turning back to the closet, he rose on his tiptoes and reached blindly to the top shelf a few inches above his head. He felt around until his fingers encountered a hard surface – a box. He reached up with two hands and pulled it out carefully. It was a plain brown shoebox. It felt rather heavy; there was something inside. He wondered if he had finally found something more private, intimate, of Heero's; something he could keep that would hold real meaning. Maybe a hidden box of memorabilia?

He sat back on the bed, anxious, and stared at the box in his lap, bracing himself. He opened it slowly, staring wide eyed at its content. A small chuckle/whimper escaped his lips. He reached into the box and pulled out a ragged, filthy, old pair of mustard colored sneakers – Heero's shoes; the same pair he had worn during wartime. The once vibrant mustard color was faded, worn out by black smudges of dirt, even blood. The shoes reeked of sweat, smoke and gunpowder. Heero never washed them. He kept them as they were; like time frozen in a box, a personal time capsule.

Duo laughed, or sobbed; he wasn't sure which anymore. He hugged the old pair of shoes tightly against his chest and cried some more. It was a long while before he was able to put the shoes back in their box and place it in the moving box at his feet.

Lastly, Duo walked back to the modest living room. He settled heavily on the sofa and reached to open the small laptop resting on the coffee table in front of him. He booted it up and typed in the password. After seeing Heero's fingers type it in so many times, he didn't have any trouble retracing the movement of Heero's fingers from memory and type in the correct combination of keys. It only took two attempts, and he was in.

He opened the email software. It was a terrible invasion of privacy, and Heero was a _very _private person, but that didn't matter anymore. Heero was dead and Duo was desperate for anything he might have left behind.

Not surprisingly, most of the emails were work related, but there was one email folder labeled "personal". He opened it, his heart hammering in his chest. The majority of the emails in the folder were ones he had sent Heero, mostly those funny emails and chain-letters that circled around the office. Nearly all of them were marked boldly as "unread". Duo smiled sadly. He knew Heero never bothered with them, but still he insisted on forwarding him this bullshit, hoping for a laugh.

His eyes were drawn to the only email marked "read", dating about a month back. The sender was someplace called "The National Hotel". Curious, he clicked to open the email:

_Dear Mr. Yuy,_

_Thank you for your reservation at the National Hotel - the flagship Victorian hotel on Block Island, RI._

**_Reservation Details:_**

**_Check in:_**_April 25th AC 207 _

**_Check out:_**_April 28th AC 207_

**_Room:_**_Ocean View Queen_

**_Guests:_**_2 adults_

**_Accommodation: _**_Half-board_

**_Total:_**_$1200_

Duo gaped at the email, stupefied. Holy shit. Heero had booked them a vacation for Easter. Judging by the pricy sum, it looked like a pretty fancy hotel too. The God damn prick... he was actually trying to do something nice, even romantic, for a change. Was he going to ask him to move in together? Is that why he wanted to wait until Easter? Jesus Christ... that was it, wasn't it? Fucking Hell! He had known the guy for over ten years and _still_ Heero managed to surprise him! God damn him... Heero had planned their first fucking vacation.

"Oh God..." a cry escaped Duo's trembling lips, forming into a flood of tears. The grief overwhelmed him and Duo succumbed to the sobs one more, covering his face with his hands and bawling shamelessly on the sofa.

Heero _did_ leave something meaningful behind; he left memories of things that would never happen.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	11. Act Two - Part 2

**Paradox**

**Act Two – Part 2:**

Duo went on that vacation alone. He took two things with him: the book Heero never got to finish, and the plain black urn containing his lover's ashes.

Block Island was about a five hour drive away from New York City, but it felt like a world away. It was beautiful. Heero would have liked its bleak charm; the old New England town and the wild pristine beaches protected by lighthouses and spectacular bluffs, surrounded by green meadows, rolling roads and winding paths. The skies were almost always overcast and the ocean was calm. The serenity of spring was just what they would have needed to remind them that being together was more about fighting and fucking. If Heero had indeed planed on asking him to move in with him, it would have truly been the perfect romantic getaway.

Instead Duo wandered around the town of New Shoreham alone, just gaping numbly at everything around him. He stood by the tall barbed-wire-fence surrounding a modest airfield in the center of town and watched small, piston-powered aircrafts take off and land. He then wandered into town and stopped at a café by the beach to read the novel Heero had been reading before he died. It was a boring book about an old man trying to catch a big fish, but he was determined to read it through. He will read every novel left on the bookmark list, thirteen in total, and finish what Heero had started.

He spent four days on the island strolling the beaches and many nature paths, trying to enjoy the beautiful scenery when in fact he felt dead inside. He returned to the hotel every night and sat in bed, alone, reading the book start to finish. He fell asleep holding onto a shirt he had taken out of Heero's hamper.

On one of his wanderings around the island, he found a beautiful and secluded strip of beach far off the outskirts of town. The cliff-face at that beach was stunning. The vibrantly colored bluffs seemed like they were on fire: a magnificent display of red, yellow, orange and brown merging together to look like flames. It was breathtaking. Looking at the beach while standing on the cliffs above felt like standing at the edge of the world. He chose that beach as Heero's final resting place and scattered his ashes into the water.

He stood barefoot on the cold sand, hugging the empty black urn closely against his chest, and cried as he watched the massive blue ocean carry away what was left of his lover. The gray ashes twirled with the currents, sinking into the water until they disappeared.

"Thank you for everything..." Duo whispered shakily, weeping silently; "except for the dying part..." he added miserably; "That was really stupid, Heero..." he whimpered, his blue eyes wild and angry.

"**THAT WAS REALLY STUPID!**" he screamed madly at the ocean and broke into pathetic sobs, dropping to his knees against the sand.

It wasn't supposed to end this way!

* * *

It was about six weeks more before Duo was finally able to go back to work. He asked for a transfer, someplace far from Earth, away from the memories. He wanted to get away as far as he possibly could, so he asked to be assigned to the MO-V case.

MO-V was a backwater asteroid belt colony with about 100,000 residents, known mainly for its outdated Leo production facilities [[i]]. Because mobile dolls like the Taurus replaced the aging Leo model during the war, MO-V was largely ignored by OZ and thus remained generally untouched by the fighting. However, there were rumors that a surviving faction of the Romefeller Foundation was using the remote colony as a base of operations for a secret project involving some of the experimental technology Preventer has been tracking over the past few years. The Agency has been following illegal shipments of technological goods to the asteroid belt for months, looking into it. A team was about to be dispatched, and Duo wanted in.

The agent in charge of the MO-V investigation and the man heading the team that was about to go there was no other than Chang Wufei. That did not work in Duo's favor, because the ex-05-pilot was not so crazy about the idea of having a grief-stricken Duo working the case. Still, being a man of honor, he did not object to the transfer out of respect to his former comrade.

It was a month long trip to the asteroid belt [[ii]]. Duo spent it in his quarters, reading. He had eight more books to go to complete the list and he was determined to finish them by the time they arrived at MO-V.

He also spent a lot of time going over the investigation files, reading all of the intelligence reports and field notes Preventer has accumulated over the past five years, including some of the cases Heero and he had worked on. He sat on his bed, staring at his laptop for hours, reviewing reports, investigation notes, speculations and data. For the first time since he started working these cases, Duo got to have a good look at the bigger picture, and it wasn't pretty. According to Preventer Intelligence, a lot of sensitive technology has already reached MO-V. There was evidence that the surviving Romefeller supporters were trying to recreate the ZERO System, but no indication of any mobile suit production. That had Preventer's specialists baffled. The enemy wanted the system for something else and the question on everybody's mind was – what for?

A team of scientists was put on the case about two years ago. The squints' job was to brainstorm ideas and try to make heads or tails out of the technology that was being meticulously transported to the asteroid belt. One of the first things the team did was interview all five ex-Gundam pilots, trying to build an inventory list of what the five scientists might have had in their labs and maybe even shed some light on the purpose of some of the strange equipment the Agency has already apprehended.

The interviews were filmed. It was the only footage he had of Heero. He sat alone in his quarters every night, watching it. The first time had been the hardest. His heart felt as though it was about to explode and burst out of his chest. It was torture; a masochist ritual he performed every night. He sat on his bed in the dark, his blue eyes shimmering with tears, and watched the video.

It was a headshot of Heero from the chest up. The young man, then twenty-five years of age, was sitting in a featureless interrogation room. He was wearing his Preventer uniform, looking tense. His sharp blue eyes glared at a person sitting in front of him.

An average human touches his face three to five times every waking minute. Heero, however, didn't even twitch a single muscle. His presence was as firm and solid as ice. He waited quietly, sitting rigidly and scowling darkly at his interrogator.

"Thank you for coming in," his interviewer began politely; he was sitting beyond the camera's range. "I'm Doctor Henry Gendler and I'm the Chief Science Officer on the MO-V investigation. State your name for the camera, please."

"Heero Yuy," Heero said and sent a harsh glance towards the camera, dismayed. Despite the tears, Duo chuckled quietly. Heero didn't like being filmed; it made him edgy. More tears welled in his eyes when it suddenly occurred to him that he didn't even have a picture of Heero, nothing tangible to remember him by. He should have taken a photo, even if Heero would have threatened to break his phone for taking his picture. He always figured he could do it some other time, maybe catch Heero in a good mood, but he never should have been so naïve. There were no assurances. It was stupid to believe that there will always be another time, another chance to take a photo and eternalize a precious moment shared together. He would have hung a whole gallery wall of them if he could, but he had run out of moments all too soon.

"You trained as a Gundam pilot under the man calling himself Doctor J, correct?" Dr. Gendler asked Heero in the video.

"Yes," Heero confirmed firmly. Duo noted how his shoulders tensed even more at the mention of J.

"I'm going to show you photos of technology we've apprehended over the years," the man sitting next to the camera said. "Let me know if anything looks familiar."

"I was not allowed in the lab."

"Maybe something will ring a bell."

Dr. Gendler placed a tablet computer on the table in front of Heero and told him to look over the photos in the database. Duo studied Heero's face carefully as he browsed through the photos, no expression crossing his stony face. Suddenly, he stopped and stared lengthily at one photo.

"This one," he said, turning to the man in front of him.

"Item E44158 dash 6?" Dr. Gendler asked.

"Yes."

The man lifted the tablet to the camera to show the picture. It looked like some sort of freakish tan bed. He set the tablet down and turned back to Heero.

"What do you know about this thing?" he asked; "What is it used for?"

"Regeneration," Heero replied curtly. Duo couldn't see, but he suspected that Heero's fists were clenched tightly under the table. It was very difficult for him to talk about his time with J. Even though he never dared asking his lover about what he had been through with Dr. J, the results spoke for themselves. Duo couldn't blame him for refusing to talk about it.

"Do you mean it heals?" Dr. Gendler asked curiously.

"Yes," Heero confirmed firmly.

"Does it work?"

"Yes."

"Are you speaking from personal experience?"

Heero paused for a moment. "I am," he finally said.

Duo felt his stomach churn uneasily.

"Please elaborate."

Heero sent a short glimpse to the camera, probably feeling very exposed. He was aware that many agents will be viewing this video. He hesitated, but then turned to Gendler, his face stark.

"There was scar tissue on my back," he opened slowly; "J peeled it off. I was laid prone on that bed. There was a strong light and some burning. The skin grew back unblemished."

Duo shifted uncomfortably on the bed, clutching the laptop tightly. He felt sick to his stomach. He doubted J used any anesthesia; Heero wouldn't have mentioned the burning if he had. He closed his eyes, his tears spilling. There was no real strategic reason to heal any scarring on Heero's back. J had used him as a test subject.

"Can it heal anything else?" Dr. Gendler asked. Duo turned back to the video.

"Fractures," Heero replied evenly.

"Broken bones?" Gendler tried to clarify.

"Yes."

"How about internal injuries? Bleeding tissue?"

"I don't recall. Maybe."

"_Maybe?_"

"I would have been unconscious."

A small movement at the corner of the screen suggested that Dr. Gendler had nodded his head. Heero resumed browsing through the photos, a hard, guarded, expression on his stoically handsome face. He stopped again, pointing at a photo.

"This one," he said quietly and turned to Gendler.

"Item E44172 dash 6?"

"Yes."

Dr. Gendler took the tablet again and presented it to the camera. This time it was a picture of a small barcode-scanner-like device, like the ones used at the supermarket.

"What is this one used for?" Dr. Gendler asked.

"Pain."

"You mean it's used for torture?"

Heero sent a quick glare to the camera again before leveling his gaze back on the man in front of him.

"Reinforcement," he said; "Pain tolerance."

This time Gendler didn't ask him to elaborate. Heero continued browsing. Duo studied his face closely. There was a slight twitch in his facial muscles; barely noticeable, but Duo was an expert in reading Heero. That was a definite expression that had just crossed his face – surprise.

"This," he stated blandly and pushed the tablet towards the other man. Dr. Gendler picked up the tablet and lifted it to the camera. "Item E44188 dash 6?"

Duo gasped; it was some sort of wireless EEG headset with an optical head-mounted display [[iii]].That was the same device that had caught Heero's interest seconds before the explosion. He tensed, leaning closer to the laptop. He studied Heero's face closely. Dr. Gendler placed the tablet back on the table.

"We were wondering what this is," the man said; "Do you know this device?"

"Yes."

"What does it do?"

"Emotional control."

"How so?"

Heero actually shifted in his seat this time. He raised a hand to push a lock of messy bangs out of his eyes. He was feeling uncomfortable.

"I don't know exactly," he said, lowering his hand down; "It affects the neurons in the dorsomedial frontal cortex."

"Thus inhibiting emotions?"

"Yes."

Is that why Heero was so interested in that device? Was he hoping for a way to reverse whatever was done to him? Duo grimaced, feeling a painful pang in his chest. He had always accused Heero of being an unfeeling bastard, but those were just angry words. His eyes watered with remorseful tears. He hoped Heero didn't take those accusations seriously, because Heero _did _feel, sometimes too much, like he couldn't regulate the emotions raging inside of him. It was either total control or no control at all, like the incident with the cryo-chamber or his overzealousness in bed; there was no middle ground.

"Neuro research suggests that when instructed to inhibit the emotion we use a different, more lateral area of the brain," Dr. Gendler pointed out.

"I was not instructed," Heero replied coldly; "This device somehow alters neuro pathways. I was forced to instruct myself... to stop feeling."

"Are you saying that you're incapable of emotion?" Dr. Gendler sounded skeptic.

Heero's face hardened into a cold, disdainful glare. His blue eyes burned with blame and resentment. "I'm saying that I had to find my way around what he did to me. It was never the same."

Duo closed his eyes sadly. Now he understood. Heero had to learn how to feel again, utilizing parts of his brain that weren't meant to regulate what he felt, because those areas were damaged; his access to them has been restricted. No wonder he was desperate for a solution. He just wanted to feel like a normal person would.

"Would you agree to take an fMRI?" [[iv]] Gendler asked.

Heero paused, thinking. He placed both hands on the table, entwining his fists tensely. He actually seemed... anxious. Duo knew his lover; very few things made him nervous. Heero was afraid to find out the extent of the damage Dr. J had caused him. When it came to acknowledging what had been done to him during his training, Heero seemed to favor denial; as if what he didn't know won't hurt him. Duo figured that it gave him hope, helped him believe that he could one day recover from whatever alterations J made to his body and mind.

"Would the device be used in the test?" Heero asked warily; his cold hard eyes struggled to mask his inner turmoil, but Duo could see straight through it.

"No," Gendler hurried to assured him. "We just want to have a look. In the interest of science, of course. I am curious to see how you've managed to bypass the damaged neuro-pathways."

"Some emotions are strong enough to endure," Heero said, casting his eyes down briefly. Duo smiled through his tears. That was the closest thing Heero has ever said to a love confession.

He watched Heero sigh quietly and lean back into the chair. He drew his hands away from the table, placing them down in his lap again. He contemplated the issue for a moment before looking up again, a firm expression on his handsome face.

"Fine," he agreed curtly, "You may."

"Thank you," Dr. Gendler said with a smile. Heero turned back to the tablet and kept browsing through the photos. Duo watched him anxiously.

"This thing," he said after a while, pushing the tablet towards the man.

"Item E44205 dash 6?"

"Yes."

"We already know what this one is. You're the one who found it. It's a cryogenic stasis chamber... the Teardrop."

"No," Heero countered sternly. "It's a time capsule."

"For _time traveling_?" the man asked doubtfully.

"Weapons' storage," Heero corrected. "I was supposed to go in it when the war ended."

Duo felt his heart sink painfully.

"Why didn't you?"

Heero hesitated. He glanced at the camera again, then back at the man. His face was blank as he said: "The future will have to make do without me."

Gendler chuckled uneasily. Fresh tears welled in Duo's eyes. He watched Heero continue browsing silently.

"That's it," he said and pushed the tablet across the table.

"Nothing else seems familiar?" Gendler asked, disappointed.

"No."

"Thank you for your cooperation, agent."

Heero nodded curtly and stood up, pushing his chair back. The camera could only see his midsection now.

"What are you going to do with all of this?" he asked.

"Keep it safe," Gendler replied; "For research purposes."

"You should burn it," Heero stated coldly and turned to leave the room. The video ended.

Duo closed the laptop's lid and his room fell into pitch black darkness. Only his tearful blue eyes glistened faintly in the dark.

* * *

It was late at night; not that it really mattered in deep space, but the ship was on its night cycle: the lights in the hallways were dim, the air was quiet and only a skeleton crew was on duty. Duo sat alone in the small mess-hall, seated by a table-for-two next to a large window offering a view of endless darkness and distant stars. A bottle of Jameson whiskey and a single shot-glass were placed in front of him, as well as a hardcopy of the MO-V investigation file and a book – Catch-22; it was #96 on the list. He was dressed in his nightwear – plain black sweats. His wet hair was braided neatly after a shower; it was resting over his shoulder, dangling down to his lap.

He had considered cutting his hair a few years ago, feeling that it was no longer appropriate for man almost pushing thirty, but now there was no way in Hell he was ever going to trim his braid. He hadn't touched its length since he was a child (just took care of split ends here and there). Every inch it grew was tribute to those he had cared about and lost; loved ones who could never move forward in time while he continued living without them. Now every inch it would grow would be a memorial to Heero as well. He will never cut it, _never_. Heero was very fond of his hair; it wouldn't be right to cut it, so he would just have to keep on living with the curious stares sent his way. He was used to it.

Three photos he had taken out of the thick file-folder were spread on the table in front of him: one was a picture of the freaky-looking tan-bed-like regeneration device, the other of the EEG headset device and the third was a photo of the Teardrop pod. He stared lengthily at the photos as he drank, a contemplative look in his deep blue eyes.

He had read in one of the reports that six months after the interviews were taken, a container loaded with much of this equipment was raided by an unknown group while being transported for storage at a secure location. It was not the first shipment to have been raided. Only then Preventer figured out that Dr. Gendler was in fact working against the Agency, supposedly aiding the group interested in the novel technology by shipping them exactly what they needed. It was suspected that that they were sending it to MO-V.

The rec-room automatic doors swooshed open and someone stepped into the small hall; a lanky young man, no more than twenty or so, with dark hair and thick eye-glasses. He was dressed in brown khakis and an unfashionable plaid shirt – he was one of the _squints _assigned to the case, the only one brave (or foolish) enough to join the mission to MO-V. The young scientist spotted Duo sitting alone by the window and smiled in greeting. He joined him, pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down.

Duo glared at the younger man from behind his shot-glass, finishing his drink. He placed the empty shot on the table. He noted how the young squint – Dr. Andrew something, he vaguely recalled – was eyeing his book.

"Catch-22," the young specialist said, smiling awkwardly; "that's a classic. Dark humor, satire, zany antics... it's one of the greats."

"I guess," Duo mumbled and poured himself another shot. "I mean, I get the whole Catch-22 thing: you have to be insane to be a combat pilot and if you want out you need a doctor to say you're insane so you won't have to fly. But to tell you're insane means you are sane, so you must continue to fly... which makes you insane. Blah blah blah..." He scoffed and downed another shot, slamming it on the table once he was done. "What I _don't_ get is what the big deal is about this piece of _crap_. The author seems to lose his train of thought only to regain it two pages later... it's like he's got ADHD or something. What a _yawner_..." he muttered as he poured himself another shot of whiskey.

The squint, Andrew Something, chuckled at his defiant manner. "Well, you're certainly in the minority on that one, but I get where you're coming from, so I guess that's understandable."

"Oh you do now, do ya?" Duo grumbled cynically and raised his next shot of whiskey to his lips. "I never wanted out," he said, "none of us did," he added and gulped down his drink. He sighed, placed the empty glass on the table and reached for the bottle again.

"Then you must be insane," the young scientist joked.

"Insanity was part of the game," Duo muttered and poured himself another shot. "It kept us alive. Sanity is what kills you," he added bitterly, raising the shot-glass. "Normalcy sneaks up on you and you realize how fucked up you really are." He swigged the whiskey and released a long sigh, staring numbly at his empty glass.

An awkward silence fell. The young squint cast his gaze down, gaping uneasily at the table.

"...I've heard you lost one of your comrades," he murmured quietly; "I'm sorry."

"Yeah... so am I." Duo murmured numbly while staring at the empty shot-glass. "He just wanted to be normal again, yanno?" he slurred drunkenly, gesturing with his head towards the photos on the table: the tools used to forge Heero into the Perfect Soldier, and the God damn _coffin_ he was meant to be put to rest in until he will be needed once more.

"He didn't want to be that _thing_ they intended on storing in this pod. He finally wanted out... and it fucking killed him."

Duo reached for the three photos, picked them up and stared at them wretchedly. "Damned if you do and damned if you don't..." he whispered glumly; "That's a catch-22 for you right there."

He placed the photos inside the folder and reached for the Jameson, this time taking a sip straight out the bottle. Andrew watched him silently, looking at a loss.

"So have you figured out what they want to do with all this shit?" Duo asked between sips.

The squint smiled nervously. "Well uh, I do have a working theory, but... I don't think anyone is gonna buy it."

"Try me," Duo said, smirking; "I just might be drunk enough to fall for it." He scoffed, chuckling darkly and took another swig from the bottle.

Andrew laughed edgily. He regarded Duo thoughtfully for a moment before smiling and nodding his head in agreement.

"Alright," he said and leaned forward readily, placing both hands on the table. "So I've been going over that list," he pointed at the thick folder, "trying to figure out why they were interested in this particular technology. We already know from previous stolen tech that they're probably trying to recreate the ZERO System, or at least a variation of it. There's also evidence suggesting that they're trying to build a high speed engine, one with light-speed capabilities, at least for a brief period of time, I estimate no more than a few seconds of light-speed travel."

"Yeah? And where would that get them?" Duo asked, although hardly interested. He drank some more.

"Not far," Andrew admitted, "but I'm guessing that they're not looking to cover much distance in this journey... just time."

Duo laughed bitterly. "Time travel?" he muttered, shaking his head with a disdainful smile. "You're right, squint, that does sound crazy."

"Not necessarily," the younger man argued; "Think about it: does time really exist, or is it something that we use to bring everything down to our level of understanding? We think of time as a constant, but who really thought of "time"? Is time relative? If it is relative can it really be constant?"

"Uh..." Duo uttered dumbly and the young scientist smiled, as these nerds did when about to explain something in layman's terms.

"It's our own humanity that distorts our perceptions of time and space," he claimed. "It's easier to downsize everything into terms we can understand, but what do we really know about time? Five minutes to me may feel like ten minutes to you, and though it's only five minutes, in the literal sense of the way we see time, there are more things in the eye of the beholder than the conventional measurement of time. Imagine what we could do with time, how we could manipulate it, if we broke through our human boundaries and broadened our perception of it."

Duo frowned. "Like... like what the ZERO System does to ya?"

"Yes, precisely," the squint nodded eagerly. "Everything is connected in the space-time continuum. It's just that our puny minds can't connect the dots. Maybe there's a reason why we only use a small percentage of our brains. We'll probably cause too much damage to our minds if we even try to perceive all that's out there. Which is why, I think, they're trying to integrate the regeneration tech and the device that alters neuro-pathways into the cryo-chamber."

"To preserve the subject's brain," Duo deduced.

"Exactly!" The kid was getting all worked up over this shit, Duo noted in dismay. He reached for the Jameson and took another swig of whiskey.

"The ZERO System will _"fry"_ the subject's brain, while the re-gen and neuro tech will simultaneously heal it, rewiring neuro pathways and fixing the damaged ones. It's brilliant, right?"

Drunk as he was, it took Duo a moment to process what he had said. "So the subject could potentially survive a trip back in time?" he asked to make sure he got it right, scowling deeply at the absurdity of it all.

"Theoretically, yes," the squint confirmed. "You see, what I'm thinking is that they're trying to build a small vessel, not much bigger than the stasis pod itself, something with limited light-speed capability. They don't need it to go very far. Like I said, a few seconds will suffice. If they could find a way to travel at an extremely high speed towards a massive body with a high gravitational attraction, such as the sun, and allow the gravitational pull to accelerate the vessel to even faster speeds, the vessel would then break away from the stellar body, creating a whiplash effect which could transport the vessel through time. [[v]] Well... theoretically, of course. The conjecture that gravity is the only force capable of moving through time has never been proven and besides, most theoretical physicists maintain the belief that even if we do somehow manage to go back in time, the timeline will just find a way around our interferences and repair itself."

"So whatever happened will happen anyway?"

"Something like that. You'd most likely go back and end up causing the event you set out to prevent. You'll just become part of established events, otherwise, you risk creating a paradox that could very well destroy the universe."

Duo scoffed dismissively. "Well _shit_," he snarled and the young squint smiled nervously, like he could tell what Duo was thinking: he'd easily sacrifice the whole Goddamn universe if he could go back and rectify a single mistake... if he could get Heero back.

"But the way I see it," the young scientist continued, "past, present and future are one, interconnected. All three time periods are the same, coexisting with a unified causality, so that if you change something in one era, it affects both other eras automatically. That way time can fix itself."

"Avoiding a paradox?" Duo asked, setting the bottle down and eyeing the younger man carefully.

"In way," the young man shrugged. "If you're careful. It's called Retrocausality, when effect happens before cause. The future affects the present, and the present affects the past, get it?"

Duo frowned. "No."

The squint laughed. "Retrocausality basically infers that none of the supposed paradoxes that could ensue due to time travel can actually be formulated at a precise physical level: that is, any situation caused by someone traveling back in time will turn out to permit many consistent solutions." [[vi]]

"Okay, so you're saying one _could_ change the course of history," Duo concluded, scowling thoughtfully. His interest was piqued. He pushed the bottle away, trying to focus.

"Maybe," Andrew said; "All I know is that if _I_ was trying to build a time machine, I would definitely use these components and try to harness gravity in my favor. It should work... I think."

"So you're _not_ sure," Duo muttered with an irate sigh and reached for the Jameson again.

The young scientist smiled awkwardly. "Well, even if they _do_ manage to build a light-speed engine, performing this maneuver will require extremely precise calculations to be made, such as availability of fuel components, acceleration, and mass of the vessel through a time continuum... No pilot could pull it off."

"Isn't that where the ZERO System comes in again?" Duo played along as he drank whiskey out the bottle, glaring peevishly at the young man from behind the Jameson.

"Yes, but it isn't going to be easy, even for an advanced system like ZERO. You see, because time measurement is something that we basically made up, you can't really instruct the system to go back to a certain event. You can't just input October third AC 22 and expect it to jump back. You need to be more accurate, to give it specific coordinates in the space-time continuum. Star positions, for example. ZERO can figure out when and where according to the alignment of the stars, but that would only work if you're trying to go far back into the past, when there's a substantial shift in the position of the stars."

"What if they're trying to change something recent?" Duo asked tensely, suddenly interested again.

"Then they'd have to find a better anchor point. It's tricky, because no human mind can possibly take into account all the data necessary to bring the craft to a specific point in the space-time continuum. It would have to be very intuitive. In essence, you'd have to think of a certain event and the System will have do the rest for you, finding the right anchor points to create specific coordinates. There's plenty of room for error. They could aim to go back just far enough to change the outcome of the war, but they might end up way before it even broke out and have no choice but to sit and wait for the event they want to change. They could be old and gray by the time that happens. Be careful what you wish for, right?" Andrew concluded with a small chuckle.

"Yeah..." Duo mumbled pensively, staring at the bottle of whiskey in his hand. "...right."

**To be continued...**

* * *

[i] See Mobile Report Gundam Wing Dual Story: G-UNIT

[ii] Doing a quick "back of the envelope" calculation: if in Endless Waltz it took Quatre 24 hours to reach the sun, whereas today it would take roughly a year, I assume that a trip to the asteroid belt, which would take about 30 year with our current technology, would take about a month. Hey, I wrote about _time travel_ and booking an Easter vacation at the National Hotel on Block Island _two months_ in advance – anything is possible in this story!

[iii] Electroencephalography (EEG) is the recording of electrical activity along the scalp using electrodes.

Optical Head-Mounted Display (OHMD) is a wearable display that has the capability of reflecting projected images (like Google Glass).

[iv] Functional magnetic resonance imaging, or fMRI, is a technique for measuring brain activity.

[v] This is a spin of the Slingshot Effect, also known as the Light-Speed Breakaway Factor, a method of time travel used in Star Trek. Yeah, I'm a Trekkie as well as an anime fan. Guilty as charged.

[vi] Paraphrasing Kip Thorne, an American theoretical physicist.


	12. Act Two - Part 3

**Paradox**

**Act Two – Part 3**

Smoke rose from a small seed-shaped vessel lodged into a thick metal wall floating the black vacuum of space; the massive outer-casing of a rotating space colony. The craft's canopy was open. It was empty.

A few dozen feet away, a small hatch was left open, leading into a dark internal maintenance conduit used to provide access to various colony systems and the outer shell. The maze of service chutes ended with a hefty airlock door; its screen flashed a green light spelling the word: **PRESSURIZED**.

Inside, the colony was undergoing construction: steel framed skeleton buildings, cranes, construction machinery and other heavy-duty vehicles filled the stale colony air with pollution and noise. A large military base at the center of the colony was the only complete and fully operational structure – the colony's command center. Massive Leo suits guarded the facility. There was a large hole in one of the perimeter buildings and evidence of a recent fire. Three broken Leos were laid on the ground next to it, covered in soot. Alliance soldiers were still cleaning up the mess. It looked like the base has taken a serious hit.

Dressed in a skin-tight black flight suit, torn and tattered from a harsh fight, Duo roamed the empty streets of the colony, looking around in confusion. He was pretty banged up: his face was streaked with dirt and blood and there was a slight limp in his stride. His long braid was falling apart. He walked stiffly, each step more painful than the previous one, wandering around while trying to figure out where the Hell he had ended up.

The MO-V mission was a complete fiasco. Romefeller knew they were coming. Two agents were dead by the time they broke into the secret base at the heart of the densely populated colony. Wufei ordered them to push through despite the heavy fire. They had to destroy the base no matter what. It was just Wufei and him by the time they made it to the hangar.

They found the Teardrop vessel. It was being readied for launch. Wufei ordered him to destroy it while he provided cover. Duo intended on doing that, he really did. He climbed in with explosive chargers, ready to set them up. Sitting inside the small pod, he paused to look down at the hangar and saw that Wufei was taking heavy fire. He watched wide eyed as the former Gundam pilot was shot down, sprayed by bullets as he dropped dead to the floor.

It was up to him now. The mission was a one-way ticket to Hell.

Bullets were fired at the vessel, ricocheting loudly off the metallic hull. Duo ducked, lying inside the pod. He activated the main computer to shut the canopy, trying to buy some time before he could finish setting up the charges. The vessel powered up and the computer interface display lit up brightly. He recognized the blinding yellow glow. It was ZERO trying to tap into his mind.

He didn't think. It was pure instinct. He wanted to get out of there, so ZERO helped him. The vessel powered up and lifted off, speeding loudly out of the hangar and shooting into space straight through the colony wall, leaving a trial of chaos in its wake. Vacuum sucked debris out of the colony as the small teardrop-shaped craft disappeared into the blackness of space. It was heading towards the sun at a staggering speed.

Lying inside the pod, Duo started thinking maybe Andrew was right. Maybe his wish to save Heero could actually be granted. It was worth a shot. What did he have to lose? He was a dead man either way. If there was a slight chance he could go back and save Heero – prevent him from approaching the vile device Dr. J had used to rid him of emotion – then he had to take the risk. Heero died because of J. He died because he wanted to undo what that mad old man did to him; he wanted to be able to love more freely – and he died for it. Duo realized he could now stop that from ever happening.

Once he made up his mind, ZERO did the rest. The stasis pod filled with freezing water and Duo sank into a deep slumber as the small vessel accelerated towards the sun. He woke up gasping and found that the craft was lodged inside the casing outer shell of some colony.

It didn't work. If it had, he should have found himself back in New York City, in front of the building where Heero died. Instead he had to wriggle inside the small pod as he put on a helmet, step out of the craft and find a way into the colony. He wandered aimlessly, trying to figure out where the Teardrop has brought him.

The colony streets were empty, most of its inhabitants were working on construction, but there were soldiers patrolling the streets. They were looking for someone. He avoided the patrols, hiding in the shadows of a dark alley as he studied the soldiers closely, frowning. They were Alliance, but the UESA hasn't existed in over a decade!

He did his best to stick to the back alleys, making his way through the colony to have a closer look. He saw the military base, guarded by outdated Leo suits and showing recent signs of damage. A rebels attack? On an _Alliance_ base? What the Hell was going on? Where was he? Or more importantly – when?

He needed information. He had a bad feeling about this. ZERO botched up the calculations – big time.

Making his way back towards the outskirts of the colony, where heavy construction was still underway, he stole a plain brown jumpsuit from one of the workers, assuming a disguise so he could blend in more easily. He also stole the guy's keycard, hoping it would get him into the crew dorms where he could figure out what was going on in peace.

He headed towards a large tenement building, the only fully constructed building aside from the base, which meant it served as the construction crew's quarters. He was halfway there when suddenly he spotted a familiar mop of scruffy brown hair in the distance. He stopped dead in his tracks, gaping at the distant figure who had no place on this colony: it was a little boy with wild unruly chocolate-brown hair, walking alone down an empty street.

Duo's heart jumped to this throat. _No way_, he thought. _Fuck!_

He ran towards the boy, his heart racing anxiously.

The little boy stopped and turned to face a dark alley.

Duo ran faster, afraid to lose him.

This can't be happening!

He got there two seconds later and saw that the little boy was talking to someone, an old man sitting in the shadowy alley – Doctor J!

"Hey!" he called out, panicked, and grabbed the boy by his shoulder, whirling him around quickly. The little boy tensed and jerked his head up to look at him, startled. Duo's heart nearly stopped when he was faced with a pair of fierce Prussian blue eyes. Jesus Christ. He was looking at a child Heero!

_Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!_ His mind reeled while he struggled to remain calm. ZERO didn't get it wrong. It brought him right where he asked to be – it brought him back just in time to save Heero from Doctor J.

_Shit._ Be careful what you wish for indeed.

He had to be quick on his feet; he had to make do with what he got, and fast, before Heero repeats the same mistake twice!

"There you are!" he exclaimed in fake-relief; "I've been looking all over for ya!"

The little boy gaped at him, dumbfounded. He opened his mouth to speak, something nasty by the look in his eyes, but Duo smiled at him cunningly, trying to show that he was on his side, and bent over the boy while still holding his slim shoulder.

"What did I tell you about accepting candy from strangers?" he reprimanded and the boy's small face hardened into an angry glare. He was about to open his mouth again, but then the old man in the alley turned to Duo, scrutinizing him from behind his freaky goggles.

"Is he with you?" Dr. J asked gruffly and Duo couldn't help but pull the little boy closer protectively.

"Yeah, he's with me," he growled the words out dangerously, "so back off ya _old fart_. You ain't getting your dirty claws on him this time."

The little boy gasped, alarmed. He inched closer to Duo, looking at the old man's metal-clawed hand with dread. Duo looked down at his small head, a strange feeling burning in his chest. He was so little. All he wanted was to wrap his arms tightly around the scrawny little boy, scoop him up and carry him to safety. Instead, he settled on nudging the boy towards him as he turned to leave.

"C'mon, Heero, let's get outta here," he said and pulled the child gently with him as he stepped away from the alley. The boy hesitated, resisting the pull while staring numbly at Duo's face. He seemed confused and Duo realized that the child has never heard the name "Heero" in his life.

In the alley, Doctor J stood up slowly; he seemed suspicious. It was pretty obvious that the child has never laid eyes on Duo before.

Duo studied the boy's face wretchedly, hoping he would trust him enough to walk away. His small features were pale and filthy, his eyes hungry. Duo knew that look well; the boy has been living on the streets, but not for very long. Overall he seemed healthy, well-fed; he was also dressed in good clothes. God, but he was so little; he couldn't be more than seven or eight. Jesus. Shit. What the Hell was he going to do with a _child_?

The small boy studied him quietly; he appeared to be trying to decide whether or not he should trust him. Duo did his best not to get all teary-eyed and smiled instead.

"Trust me, kiddo, you're better off with me," he whispered and the small boy frowned warily. He wasn't buying it.

"How about a hot meal and a warm bed?" Duo suggested softly; "sounds good?"

The boy didn't answer. He just bowed his head down meekly and stared at his dirty shoes as he followed Duo towards the large tenement building up ahead.

* * *

They spent the night in one of the empty crew quarters. The noisy construction continued all through the night. Duo sat by a small desk next to the bed, watching the little boy he had named Heero sleep soundly under warm covers. The boy said he had nothing else to go by when he humbly accepted his new name. Duo always knew that the alias "Heero Yuy" was given to Heero as a codename for Operation Meteor. He assumed that Heero kept the name because he had nothing else to go by, but it still hurt to confirm this theory.

There was nothing sadder than a nameless child. No one cared for him enough to even give him a name. Even objects had names, but this child didn't. Thinking about it brought tears to Duo's eyes. He knew what it felt like to be so unloved no one even gave you a name, but unlike Heero, he just said _'fuck it'_ at some point and named himself, figuring that if no one else gave a shit he would just do it himself. This boy, however, didn't seem to think he mattered enough to even name himself. It broke Duo's heart. He wept sorrowfully, watching the sleeping child while silent tears glided down his cheeks.

He sat hours into the night and stared at the little boy, feeling utterly miserable as he came to terms with the irrefutable fact that Heero was now lost to him, for good. There was no going back to fix things anymore... he had messed that up. He will never meet Heero in this timeline, never fall in love... not unless Heero becomes a Gundam pilot, and that was absolutely out of the question. He could never knowingly set this boy on a path that would cause him so much agony, which meant that Heero – _his_ Heero, the man he loved – was gone forever, because this boy, lying on the bed in front of him, will never grow up to be that man. Heero was gone, but... but there he was, right in front of him... living and breathing as a boy, twenty years younger than him!

Fuck. What the fuck was he doing? Who was he to change history? What was he even thinking – going back in time! What gave him the right to make such a selfish decision and sacrifice everything for Heero's sake? Heero would never want that, but Duo didn't mean for this to happen! It should have been harmless enough. He should have just gone back six months and prevent Heero's death, but now... shit. The moral implications were staggering. He could barely wrap his head around it all.

To save Heero would mean to take him off the path he was destined to walk and risk fucking everything else in the process. Who was he to make this choice? He was just a man – petty, selfish and flawed – not God. And as a mere mortal, of course he will choose Heero; no doubt about it. Fuck the world. He will save Heero. Somehow... But— _shit_. It was Heero or the world. There simply wouldn't be a world without him... and now? What now? Can history do without Heero? Can time fix itself like that squint Andrew said? Will it find a way around something _this_ big?

Taking Heero out of the picture was pretty much dooming everyone eight years down the road, wasn't it? Without Heero, so many things won't play out the same way they did that first time around. _Fuck_. Without Heero, he will be executed in an OZ prison on C-102 seven years from now. Fuck! There will be no one to rescue him this time around... and that was just his side of things. What about the bigger picture?

What about Relena? Meeting Heero was what set her on a path to change the fucking world, bringing hope and aspiration for peace in times of war and desperation. People wanted peace because she became a symbol of it... what if that never happens now? Will the war just carry on forever?

And Zechs... That fucking _prick_. What about him? Losing to Heero on the battlefield was what drove the highly-decorated OZ commander to suddenly perceive himself as weak. And when he had witnessed Heero's stupid self-detonating stunt in Siberia, the prick realized that he lacked the absolute resolve to lay one's life on the line for a greater purpose. He was so impressed with Heero's dedication to his mission to keep the colonies safe that he began to change. His obsession over Heero and the internal conflict it ensued led him into getting kicked out of OZ and eventually being in charge of the White Fang militia, changing sides.

What if Zechs never develops this obsession? What if never meeting Heero meant that he remains with OZ and never takes command of the Colony Rebel forces as the leader of White Fang? What if he never declares war on the Earth using the battleship Libra, targeting the planet to stop humanity from fighting each other and to have Relena lead the people in a new age of peace? What if he doesn't become a mutual enemy of both Earth and the Colonies – what then? How will things play out without Zechs' obsession to outdo Heero in just about everything?

Heero inspired just about every person he had ever met. He changed people for the better, driving them to make the world a better place. Heero saved the world vicariously through so many people and in so many ways... too many to keep count of, really. That was just the kind of person he was, even if he could never see it for himself. Heero thought himself a messenger of vengeance, of blood and loss, while in truth he was an angel of mercy, of hope. The world will not be the same without him. This wasn't simply about losing the love of his life anymore. This was bigger... much bigger. This was about the world losing its savior.

Without Heero, everything will change. What if the Colonies eventually lose? Will the oppression just carry on forever? And what if Earth loses? What if the Colonies destroy it? What if both sides destroy each other? What if because Heero will never touch the lives of people like Relena or Zechs, the rest of the world will never realize how pointless the fighting has become? What if it never stops?

But what if it does? What if time _could_ fix itself? What if history could do without Heero? Maybe... maybe Dr. J will just find another helpless kid and make a Perfect Soldier out of him and then everything will be as it should. Duo really wanted to believe that, but deep down he had the sick feeling that no person could ever replace Heero. On the battlefield, maybe, but not as a person. Heero was one of a kind, unique... precious. Quatre once called him the "Heart of Space", because despite the callous exterior, Heero possessed an uncanny capacity for empathy towards fellow men. His heart was too kind and too pure; irreplaceable. That was why he moved people in ways they could hardly understand. So why this precious soul should be condemned to wither away on the battlefield? Fuck the world. Fuck everyone! Like Heero had said, the future will just have to make do without him.

So yeah, damn it all to Hell. Duo made up his mind. Fuck history. This time around, Heero won't get the fucking short end of the stick. Everyone else will, but not this child, not this time. Fuck morality, ethics and all that bullshit. This time – it was all about Heero and him.

Which brought on his next dilemma: If he was truly going to mess with history, should he take a wild gamble and risk of making matters worse by interfering further? Should he take his selfishness to the limit and go save himself as well?

He found out earlier that he had arrived on June 13th AC 188. He had missed the Maxwell Church Massacre by roughly three months. The biggest tragedy of his life could not be prevented, but he could still seek his young-self and do some serious damage control. He could salvage both Heero's and his own childhood. For a moment, Duo even entertained the idea of raising both children as adopted brothers. Then again, that would be _too_ picture-perfect; it felt wrong. It almost made him sick.

They were destined to be lovers, not brothers. He just couldn't do it, maybe because then there will never be a chance of them meeting again. It would mean giving up all hope of ever loving Heero again, even vicariously through his present-day-self. What if present-day-Duo and Heero were destined to meet somehow-somewhere in time? There would be a kind of poetic justice to his unfathomable predicament if they were to meet anyway. This silly hope that he might someday meet Heero was the only comfort Duo could find at the moment as he decided to forsake his present-day-self to his fate.

Someone had to pay the price for this accidental but almost certainly fatal interference with the timeline. It was only fitting that he should be the one to offer retribution. It seemed fair, despite the injustice of it all. His young-self shouldn't be held accountable for the sins he hasn't committed yet, and never will commit because the timeline was compromised... Shit. It was a fucking paradox and the only clear solution he could see was that the show must go on. History needed him to play his role as he had done before, now more than ever. His present-day-self will have to bear this cross, paying for the mistakes of his future-self. He couldn't save both Heero and himself.

Duo closed his eyes sadly, feeling a deep icy chill in his heart. He was so sorry, but it was either Heero or nothing. As much as it wounded him, he chose Heero over his young-self. It felt awful and it hurt, but he knew that everything came with a price. He will sacrifice both history and himself for Heero's sake. This time, the world will just have to find a way to better itself for Heero and not the other way around.

* * *

The small boy woke up in the early morning hours. Duo hasn't slept a wink. He gave the boy some breakfast, which he ate quietly, keeping his eyes downcast as he stared at his plate.

"What were you doing alone on the streets?" Duo asked carefully as he sat next to him, watching the boy eat. "Are you lost?"

The boy thought about it for a moment. He nodded.

Something inside him shuddered. He remembered Heero once saying that he has always felt lost.

"What are you doing on this colony?" he continued asking; "Does your dad work here?"

The child shook his head 'no'.

"Who takes care of you?"

"He's dead." Those words, spoken in a small boyish voice, were the first words the child spoke to him. Suddenly, he realized just how _young_ this boy really was. Shit. Duo felt himself falter. He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his cool.

"Is that his blood on your clothes?" he asked quietly, gesturing at the boy's dirty shirt. He hadn't noticed the blood yesterday, but when he took the boy's small jacket off last night before tucking him in bed, he saw that his clothes were soaked with blood.

"Did you have anything to do with what happened at the base?" Duo wondered and the boy looked away uneasily.

"You did, didn't you?" He marveled. He never knew Heero started off _this_ early. He never dared ask his lover about his life before they met, about his time with Dr. J or what happened before that. The subject was a taboo and the mere mention of it made Heero push him away and close up all over again. He had no idea.

"Is that how he died?" he asked the boy carefully and watched Heero's blue eyes tear up.

"He said I haffta go to school..." the boy mumbled shakily. His lips trembled as struggled to keep the tears at bay. "But there aren't any!" he whined, distressed; "I tried to do like he said, but I... I couldn't find any!" He moaned anxiously, clearly afraid; like he was going to be punished for failing to do as he was asked. Duo's heart shattered at his despaired cry.

"There are no schools on this colony," he explained softly, leaning down towards the upset little boy. "There will be, many years from now, once it's complete."

And that won't happen for a long time. Duo knew that the UESA will soon abandon the colony because of the rebels' attack. Its construction won't be finished before AC 197, when Quatre will take it onto himself to complete the colony after Heero, Trowa and himself stop Dekim Barton from dropping the colony onto the Earth in an attempt to recommence Operation Meteor— but that won't happen now... shit.

Duo made a mental note to write all of this stuff down. He had to get everything on paper before he forgets, every last detail. It was no longer ancient history, but valuable intelligence. This information is going to be crucial if he was to make sure that the war ends the same way it did the last time.

He focused on the little boy again and his eyes watered when he noted the child's obvious distress.

"But... but Odin said..." the boy mumbled between sniffles, "He didn't say anything else. He didn't tell me what to do if I didn't find any!"

Duo smiled sadly and placed a warm hand on the boy's small shoulder. "I'll find you a good school," he promised, "I'm going to take care of you from now on, okay?"

The boy nodded his head, wiping his tears with the back of his little hands. "Okay," he murmured, sniveling.

"Okay, good," Duo established and stood up. The boy did the same. He stood tensely, watching Duo attentively as though awaiting orders. Duo's heart broke even more.

"I'll find a way to get us off this colony," he said and the boy nodded in acknowledgment. He was still waiting to be told what to do. Duo tried to think of something and once he came up with it, he smiled.

"Have you ever seen Earth, Heero?" he asked.

The little boy shook his head 'no', his messy bangs swinging before his eyes. Duo made another mental note – give the boy a haircut.

"Alright," he said with a smile; "so how about I figure out how to get us there, while you draw me a picture of what you think it might look like?"

The child frowned, puzzled by the odd request. "Draw a picture?"

"Yeah," Duo repeated and went to fetch a small pad of paper and a blue ball pen resting on the small desk by the bed. He gave Heero the pen and the boy held it, staring at it in confusion.

"But I don't know what it looks like," he mumbled nervously, clearly afraid to fail the task he had been given.

"I know," Duo said with a gentle smile, "that's why I said you should draw whatever you _think _it would be like."

"Blue?" the boy wondered, staring uneasily at the blue ball pen.

Duo laughed. "Yeah, that's a start," he said and walked to the door. "I'll be back real soon, okay? Wait here. Don't open the door for anyone," he ordered (knowing the boy will follow his command) and then left, locking the door behind him.

When he came back, a plan to get off the colony already in motion, Heero showed him his picture, holding it up apprehensively. It was a drawing of an empty blue circle. Duo stared at it, trying not to look saddened as he realized that he had a long road ahead of him...

* * *

**To be continued...**

**Author's Note:** I hate to leave you hanging but I'm going abroad on a family vacation (God help me...) so I won't be able to post until after Easter.

Happy Easter/Passover to those who celebrate!

Elle


	13. Act Two - Part 4

**Paradox**

**Act Two Part 4**

Throwing a set of keys on the small wooden entrance table by the door, a thirty-five-year-old Duo stepped wearily into the old farmhouse he had made his and Heero's home on Earth. He kicked off his muddy boots by the door and stumbled tiredly towards the kitchen. He was wearing a gray jumpsuit stained with black grease and his thigh-length braid was messy, falling apart.

He opened the refrigerator door with a weary sigh, grabbed a cold bottle of beer and yanked the pull-top open. He gulped down a few long sips and made his way upstairs.

It was late at night. He's been gone since the early morning hours. Heero was still sleeping when he left. He saw Heero's bike resting against the front porch when he came in, so he assumed the boy was home, probably fast asleep. They hardly saw each other anymore. It hurt him to be apart from Heero, to be so out of touch with the boy's life, but he had no other choice. Bigger things were at stake. He had a responsibility to history as well as for his adopted son. Right now, his work had to take priority. Hopefully, it will all be over soon and he could go back to just being Heero's dad.

The house was dark and quiet; only a light in the hallway upstairs was left on. Climbing up, Duo stopped to stare at the photo gallery, running his miserable blue eyes over the dozen or so picture he had hung on the staircase wall over the years. His eyes stopped on a small photo of Heero sitting inside the cockpit of his old Cessna, wearing a headset and sunglasses that were too big for his little head so they slid down his forehead and nose. He smiled wistfully, staring at the little boy in the picture. He took another swig of beer and continued up the stairs.

He stopped by Heero's closed bedroom door. There was no light coming from underneath it. He opened the door slowly, quietly, and peeked inside.

Light from the small hallway tumbled into the room; a bright yellow column of light streaking the floor. It was raining; a downpour hammered loudly against Heero's bedroom window. The teenage boy was lying in his bed, deep asleep. The thick blanket was tangled around his long legs after sliding off his body. Duo smiled weakly. Heero was such a messy sleeper (messy meaning quilt tangled up and pillows pushed to the floor, etc.). Unlike the man he used to know, this boy felt safe to sleep so soundly nothing bothered him, not the cold or a noise. He slept like a child.

Smiling at the heartwarming sigh, Duo walked into the room. Their fight from the previous night already forgotten, he approached the bed silently and pulled the blanket up, covering Heero gently. The boy moaned, shifting in his sleep, but didn't wake. When he moved the faint light coming from the hallway washed over his face and for a second there Duo was certain he saw some dark bruising on his left temple. Frowning, he leaned in closer, but then Heero turned to the left and nuzzled his face against the pillow. Duo sighed and straightened back up. It was probably nothing, just shadows playing tricks on him.

He stood over the boy's bed, holding the beer bottle limply in his hand, and studied Heero's sleeping face wretchedly. Now in his teens, Heero looked exactly the same as when they had first met. It wasn't as disturbing as it was confusing. The man he had fallen in love with and this boy he loved dearly as his own were very different people, but they looked alike and were still the same at the core. He wasn't worried about old feelings coming back now that Heero looked like Heero again, because he had learned to love him differently. He will never look at his boy like that – _never_. That didn't mean it hurt any less. In fact, it hurt even more now that he was reminded of the love he had lost almost every single day. He missed Heero dearly, yet there he was. It wasn't the same and his heart was breaking just looking at his boy. It was a constant battle not to fall apart... as if raising a fifteen-year-old wasn't hard enough.

He had read every book out there about raising adopted children with history of abuse and neglect. Online forums helped too. Frustrated_Mom95 was a big help during those first difficult years, but none of the experts out there had to deal with what he was facing. Heero's case was more complex than most.

Assuming they were the same age when they first met as Gundam pilots, Heero should have been about eight years old when he found him this time around. And while the boy was very mature and independent for a child his age, Duo soon noted some obvious developmental delays caused by severe neglect.

For one, the boy had very poor language skills. His receptive language far exceeded his expressive language skills. While he understood what he was being told, his grasp of grammar rules was rather lacking and he had difficulty combining words into phrases, sentences and complex paragraphs when trying to express himself. He'd often get words and grammar wrong and he also had some difficulty to organize and structure thoughts. No one has ever taken the time to just speak to him or read to him, teaching him by example how to speak and therefore think properly.

Similarly, Heero didn't know how to read or write; no one has ever bothered teaching him. He could count, but he didn't quite grasp the meaning of numbers and couldn't even do simple calculations. When Duo asked him how many fingers he was holding up, spreading one hand in front of the little boy, Heero recited _'five'_. Then Duo raised his other hand and asked how many fingers he was holding up now. Heero stopped to count and said _'ten'_. Then Duo asked how many fingers would there be if Heero also held up his hand and the boy hesitated before mumbling _'three hands'_ and looked away shyly. Tears of distress shone in the boy's blue eyes; he knew he was wrong, but he didn't know how else to reply and he was terrified of giving the wrong answer. Duo's eyes watered as well when he realized that the man who raised Heero didn't think the child needed to be educated as long as he did what he was told. He had hugged Heero so tightly that day, desperate to make everything better.

The boy also had very poor printing and drawing skills. Other kids his age already knew how to recognize and write print, and usually found that schematic generalization was no longer sufficient to express reality and tried to draw in more detail. Heero however didn't have any printing skills and still stuck to schematic drawings. He didn't know what many things looked like or how to portray them on paper; no one has ever shown him or encouraged him to practice these rudimentary skills.

When the stewardess on their flight to Earth gave Heero a small coloring book and a box of crayons, the boy simply didn't know what to do with it; Duo had to show him and walk him through the playful exercises. Heero seemed to enjoy it, until he reached a page with a drawing of a space shuttle and beneath it room for children to copy it and draw their own shuttle. He was so afraid to fail that he asked Duo to do it and draw him a shuttle.

While heartbroken by these discoveries, it was easier for Duo to address these issues and help Heero catch up with kids his age. He read to him every night and encouraged Heero to discuss plot and illustrations with him. It was a great way to teach him about the world and an even better way to connect with the boy. Duo often found that he missed those precious evenings he had spent sitting on Heero's bed with his adopted child sitting next to him and listening intently to a children's tale. They'd discuss the story and Duo would explain to Heero about the world, from Where Wild Things Are, to what happens If You Give a Mouse a Cookie and Oh What Places You Will Go!

They covered all the classics together, reading books Duo also never read as a child. He found it quite enjoyable, especially when they reached the more mature children's books like The Hobbit or The Neverending Story. By that point Heero could already read by himself, but he said he liked it better when Duo read to him before bed because he _'did all the voices'_. In all honesty, Duo liked that part too, getting all theatrical while reading to the boy. It was one of the very few occasions Heero let him act silly without making that adorable little disapproving-pouting-face of his.

He also taught the boy the ABCs, numerical digits and basic math. They spent many afternoons sitting by the kitchen table, practicing. Heero was a very bright little boy with a commendable attention span. He was very focused and attentive, engrossing himself in his task with absolutely no distractions until he achieved his goal. It didn't take him long to catch up with the expected skill level of a child his age and even exceed it. All he needed was someone taking the time to teach and nurture him and he thrived. Duo never expected anything else; he knew what Heero was capable of and it gave him a sense of pride to help the boy fulfill his potential.

More importantly though, Duo had to address the issue of Heero's physical safety by letting the boy know that no harm will come to him no matter what, while also making sure Heero had everything he needed. He wanted Heero to feel that he was cared for, but Heero was a very independent child. He required very little care; he was used to taking care of himself. The boy didn't need to be told what to do or how to do it. He woke up first thing in the morning like clockwork, got dressed, brushed his teeth, made his bed and prepared his own breakfast and so on. He could shower on his own and he'd even wash his clothes if they got dirty, or dress his own wounds if he fell or cut himself.

Duo wanted to change that. The boy was only eight; he should be busy messing up the house with toys and games, running outside and getting mud on the carpet while caring very little for chores, order and routines. A child his age shouldn't be accustomed to fend for himself or set his own schedule; that was what adults were for. Duo had to teach Heero to trust him to take care of his every need, but the boy rarely let him, unless he was really in a pinch.

One night Heero was running a high fever. He was prone to colds during the winter and that one was especially nasty. Medicine wasn't helping and the fever peaked dangerously high. Worn-out by his illness, the boy actually allowed Duo to take care of him. He ran him a lukewarm bath to try lower the fever down. He helped the little boy undress before going into the tub. That was when he had first seen the scarring on his back. He had never seen it before because Heero always dressed by himself. The scars were hideous, screaming out a horrid tale of terrible abuse: deep welts, cigarette burns and worse; some of them seemed very recent. Duo's eyes watered sorrowfully at the sight. He then remembered how uncomfortable Heero appeared when speaking of these scars in the video. It broke his heart to know that now he will have to live his life with this gruesome reminder imprinted on his back.

Trying not to bow down to the sorrow and cry openly, Duo sat crouched in front of his little boy, looking at him through tearful eyes. The child stood before him naked from the waist up, keeping his head bowed down shamefully; his fever-flushed face reddened even more.

_'It doesn't hurt,'_ he had whispered in small, miserable, voice; _'not anymore,'_ he added, looking bashfully at Duo, tears shining in his eyes. _'It's better now...'_

Duo gathered the small boy into his arms. He hugged him tightly, holding his little head against his chest and caressed his hair tenderly as he cried silent tears. He just wanted to protect Heero from everything, wrap him in cotton wool and shield him from the world.

He remembered the day they moved to the island. It was a cold winter day and the stormy ocean waters rocked the ferry wildly. Heero had never seen the ocean before, so he asked to step outside and have a closer look. Duo stood with him by the railing and fondly observed the blatant awe on the boy's face as he watched the raging sea for the first time. He recalled how Heero's small hands had gripped the ferry railing tightly as he leaned over the water, closing his eyes to enjoy the cold wind and soft drizzle of ocean water spraying on his face with every wave that crashed against the large ferry.

He had dressed Heero warmly that day, wrapping him in multiple layers of clothes, topped with a thick coat, a scarf, gloves and a ski hat. Heero was such an adorable boy (in a petulant and defiant sort of way); he had pouted sulkily because he could hardly move inside his many clothes, while Duo's heart had swelled with this strange proud feeling. There was something very heartwarming and fulfilling about having the means to adequately protect your child from the cold, but it was more than that. The symbolism did not escape him. He had literally wrapped Heero in cotton wool.

He tried so hard to protect Heero, admittedly sometimes even a bit _too_ much – denying him of the independence he craved – but he could not help himself. He was determined to steer Heero clear of anything that might put him back on the course he was destined to take. He wanted to make sure that this time around, Heero's life will be better; full of love and security. He will give him the normal quiet life he so rightfully deserved.

To do that, he set out to give Heero a home, a place the boy could feel safe, comfortable and loved; somewhere he belonged. He chose Block Island, the same place where he had spread Heero's ashes, as their home. Somehow it just felt right to see that Heero's life will continue here.

He had won a lot of money gambling, which was very easy to do when you know the score in advance. If only his lover could see him now, then he would feel pretty damn stupid for mocking his obsessive compulsion to memorize Major League Baseball statistics. Memorizing and reciting baseball stats helped him stay focused and relieve stress. He was aware that he mumbled them absentmindedly while working or suiting up for a mission, which drove Heero _nuts_, but he could not help himself. Now, finally, it has paid off. He won a substantial amount of money and managed to purchase an old foreclosure farmhouse on the island.

Standing proudly in front of his purchase, his hand wrapped around Heero's small shoulders, he had grinned at the old dump, smiling as he asked the boy: _'What do ya think?'_

Heero made this little pouting face he made when he thought Duo was being silly, highly underestimating the situation and amount of work he was facing, and Duo laughed.

_'Oh, come on!'_ he exclaimed playfully, _'a few coats of paint, some new windows... a door... fix the front porch and a few missing floorboards and – voilà! Home sweet home! It's a fixer-upper, but we'll work on it together. It'll be fun. Pretty cool, right? Our own place?'_

The boy studied the house for a moment, his blue eyes scanning the rundown façade of the old house. He nodded, smiling a little as he turned his head up to look at Duo.

_'Can I have a blue room?' _he asked in his little timid voice; he was still unaccustomed to speak of his wants and needs, but he was getting the hang of it (sometimes too profusely).

_'Heero,'_ Duo beamed, pulling the boy closer while still holding his arm draped across his small shoulders;_ 'I'll make sure you'll have **anything** you'll **ever** want!' _he declared, smiling proudly. The boy smiled back shyly.

When Heero was still a child, Duo could deny him nothing. He loved giving him things. When they first moved into the old house Duo took Heero to a toy store and told him he could have whatever he wanted to fill the empty shelves in his room. The little boy stood in middle of the colorful toy store, overwhelmed. The selection was so big and varied that he didn't even know where to begin. Duo recalled seeing the boy's eyes glance at a large display of toy guns and army stuff. For a brief second he was alarmed, fearing Heero will make fake weapons as his first choice, but then Heero looked away and he relaxed. The small boy chose a blue ball instead. He showed it to Duo, his eyes asking for permission.

_'It's like Earth,'_ he had said in his little childish voice and Duo had smiled affectionately, nodding. _'Yeah, it is,'_ he said softly and placed the blue ball in their cart. _'Anything else you like?'_

The boy looked around him, his blue eyes scanning shelves stacked with toys. He chose a box of Legos next and placed it hesitantly in the cart, looking at Duo for approval. Duo just smiled and nodded in encouragement.

_'What else?'_ he asked and Heero gaped at him, stupefied.

_'I can get more?'_ he asked, astounded by the notion.

_'Anything you want,'_ he assured him and the little boy smiled; a small shy smile, but a most definite joyful smile. They were making progress.

They reached the checkout line with a cart overflowing with toys. To that day, Duo couldn't recall having so much fun in his life. In a way, giving Heero a childhood gave him a second chance at childhood as well.

His heart would explode with this incredible feeling whenever he looked around him and saw the home he had managed to give Heero. But assuring Heero's physical safety and well-being wasn't enough. There were bigger issues to be addressed and once he determined that the boy felt safe and comfortable around him, Duo could finally approach the more delicate task of emotional healing. Resilience – the ability to cope following trauma – was not an inherent trait, but something that had to be developed and nurtured. He tried to do that by following the teachings of the books, making sure that he was always available, consistent and supportive, even when the boy gave him Hell.

The books said it won't be easy, but they had _no _idea. Heero's case was tougher than anything in the professional literature. The boy came with serious abandonment and trauma issues, and he acted out or reacted in ways that Duo didn't initially understand. He had to learn to see the world through the boy's eyes, often thinking back on his own difficult childhood for a change of perspective. He remembered what it felt like to live in constant fear of hurt and abandonment.

The fear was always there. Heero suffered from terrible nightmares during the first year. Not once Duo woke up to his screaming in the middle of the night and dashed into the boy's room to sooth his crying. One time he found Heero's bed empty. Panicked, he switched on the light and saw that the boy was hiding under his bed. He had wet the bed and was afraid of being punished. Duo's heart broke into two that night. Even months after he had taken Heero in, the boy was still afraid of him. No matter how thoughtful and understanding he tried to be, the child still lived in fear of being punished.

That was why, when Heero got to the "testing boundaries" stage of their adoptive father-son relationship, Duo was reluctant to set rules and limits, no matter how frustrated and overwhelmed he was by Heero's deliberate misbehavior. He had paid for it dearly. He had failed to address certain negative behaviors early on, knowing they came from Heero's past experiences or current fears, and once bad behavior had been allowed, it was harder to address later. Duo was losing his fucking mind trying to fix this major oversight. He always felt like the "bad guy" who made Heero his victim. It was so frustrating!

At first, Heero was such a good and obedient boy, always on his best behavior, but, as the books claimed, that was only a result of his fear that Duo too might leave him. The boy struggled to do everything in his power to stop Duo from going. However, soon after they moved into the island, Heero became comfortable enough to start testing his boundaries. The honeymoon period was over.

The books tried to offer solace by explaining that the boy may never have been able to attach and bond to a safe adult, so he was caught in the quandary of instinctively understanding his vulnerability but being unable to be comfortable with it. Heero was coming from a place of weakness, trying to demonstrate strength by acting out. He had most likely been exposed to adult situations and forced into adult roles he was neither physically nor mentally capable of shouldering. The books said that he had to help Heero unlearn these behaviors. Easy for them to say. Those fucking _"experts" _didn't have to deal with an eight-year-old with hair-trigger reaction to draw a kitchen knife at you if he felt threatened, or run away from home with your pickup truck after hot-wiring it all by himself and then crashing it into a damn tree because he was too short to see where he was going!

The books didn't say anything about how to deal with a small child who could easily slit your throat in your sleep if you accidently violated what little trust he was willing to offer. Luckily, Duo has had a lot of practice gaining Heero's trust in another lifetime; it came in real handy when dealing with him as a boy. Still, Heero had pushed buttons that Duo didn't know he even had, and tapped feelings in him that he thought unthinkable. Sometimes, he just wanted to _wring the boy's neck_ until – _snap!_

The anger horrified him. How could he possibly wish him the kind of death he had set out to prevent when he first got himself into this mess? But sometimes he was so tired and so frustrated that he just wanted to—_urgh!_

Frustrated_Mom95 said that unless he'll establish boundaries, attachment won't grow and trust won't develop. She called it a paradox that he must solve if he truly wanted Heero as a son; the boy will never grow to trust and depend on him unless he starts acting like a parent. She said that he had to be very clear about his limits ("don't steal my truck", "don't make a grenade with firecrackers" and "don't stab me with a knife" being just a few examples) and that he must set his own routines for bedtimes, meals, and chores, because knowing what will happen next was very important to a child whose life once felt chaotic. She said he needed to take more control over the boy's life and also discipline him more, but Duo was afraid that by doing that he might elicit memories of past trauma or worse, traumatize Heero all over again.

It took him a while to realize that he had to teach the boy the difference between acceptable and unacceptable behavior as any parent did. But the boy had a very clear and strong sense of individuality. Their temperaments often clashed, resulting in disaster. Duo had to conquer his own bad temper or else he'd surrender to frustration and do more harm than good. Once he realized that when he experienced anger or helplessness, Heero was feeling the same thing, it helped Duo to connect with the boy rather than simply reacting to his behavior. It reminded him that Heero wasn't doing those things on purpose; he did it because he didn't know how to cope with his feelings, often expressing a reaction to an underlying issue like fear or anxiety. The boy simply didn't know what he felt and it overwhelmed him... it reminded Duo so much of his dead lover.

Going by the book, Duo tried to encourage the child to express and describe his feelings, helping him identify if he was sad, angry or scared. By helping him name, express and understand his feelings over time, Heero no longer felt as controlled by them or that they or he were "bad". And, by coming back, talking, laughing, and sometimes apologizing after getting mad at Heero, the boy learned that neither his anger, nor Duo's, meant he will ever be abandoned again. Heero has thus shown Duo his own capacity for commitment and love. He had found new depths to his love for Heero; learning how much he could truly love him and hold him in his heart.

All in all, it wasn't so bad. Heero was a very gentle, loving, giving, and forgiving child; bright, talented, creative and insightful. Once the bumpy part of the ride was behind them, it got real easy to love the boy. It wasn't always smooth sailing, expressly once the boy reached adolescence and started testing boundaries again, but Duo gradually got the hang of parenting. He had once dealt with the boy during far more drastic situations, but still, there was no denying that Heero had the uncanny knack to make Duo feel so out of sorts sometimes. They argued so damn much! _'Other parents are not so controlling!'_ the teenager would often accuse him, or: _'I'm on spring break! Why can't I sleep all day and stay online during the night!?'_

Lately Duo found himself caught in an arguing cycle with his son more often than not. He'd occasionally get disgusted with himself for not sticking to his guns and letting the boy's attitude influence him. There were many times when Duo knew in his heart that he should have said _'No'_ and held fast to his decision, but when you have a bright kid like Heero and the boy slings back several reasons why your answer should be _'Yes'_, it was hard to stick with _'No'_. Unfortunately, sometimes the arguing ended up with Duo getting so frustrated that he'd lay down his laws in anger. It usually stuck for a few days, and then he'd let it slide again because he wasn't up to another round of heated arguing.

It was so fucking frustrating! How could a boy he had once known to be extremely obedient and disciplined possibly give him so much trouble? It wasn't that Heero asked for much, he wasn't the kind of kid who excepted to be catered and waited on hand and foot, but when he wanted something Duo didn't approve of, such as spending a shitload of money on a stupid MS model, a state-of-the-art mountain bike or a new computer (when he already got a new one last Christmas!), or even something like going on a stupid school-trip to the mainland, Duo often found himself being a damn authoritarian bully. But whenever he couldn't bring himself to be the "bad guy" anymore and opened the door to arguing, he sunk.

Giving in was not an option; not with someone as determined as Heero. The boy despised losing (some things never change...). Whenever he lost an argument Heero would stomp angrily back to his room, slamming the door so loud the windows rattled. Duo couldn't help but smile to himself when that happened, pleased that he was raising a typical fifteen-year-old despite the boy's problematic past. It made it easier to separate the man he had known from the boy he was raising both in his mind and his heart.

Overall, as the years went by it became less and less creepy to raise a boy he had once known as a man and a lover. Duo chose to view them as two separate individuals: there was Heero Yuy the Gundam pilot, friend and lover; and there was his adoptive son. They were one of the same, but worlds apart. Sometimes he recognized the man he had known and loved in his boy, and sometimes he found himself wondering how could they possibly be so different? Granted, deep down they weren't different at all. His boy was simply a version of what his lover would have been like if allowed to live a healthy, normal and nurtured life. Once he accepted that he was the one to give Heero this life, he made his peace with it. It was a privilege and an honor. He was the one to give Heero a chance at the normal life he never got to have that first time around. He was lucky enough to get to him while Heero was still young, still salvageable. He was determined to do anything in his power to make certain that his efforts to help Heero heal will not go to waste.

Feeling the need to linger, Duo walked quietly around Heero's room, looking around while sipping beer out the bottle. The teenage boy slept peacefully in his bed while Duo ran his eyes over the sci-fi posters covering the blue walls and smiled fondly as he recalled the day they had painted those walls together. Heero chose a bucket of cobalt-blue paint at the hardware store and was very excited about painting his own room.

He walked over to the tall bookshelf where hundreds of comic books were arranged neatly. Comics were a hobby he had suggested when Heero was little. He wanted the boy to have something he would enjoy, something to capture his somewhat lacking imagination, and comics were meant to be read and enjoyed in that capacity. Heero wasn't an enthusiast. Collecting them just sort of happened as a natural extension of reading the story as it developed. They piled up, and since they were serial narratives, Heero held on to them instead of just having part of a story. The only thing he was truly enthusiastic about was his MS models collection. It was a hobby that Duo didn't really approve of (because it was too close to the path he didn't want Heero to take), but he was helpless to stop the boy's growing interest in mobile suits.

Duo stepped closer to Heero's desk. The boy's computer was always on (though the monitor was dark) and his schoolwork was scattered across the wooden tabletop. His gaze fell on the small penguin doll standing by the computer screen. He smiled, huffing a quiet chuckle. He reached for the small doll and held it gently in his hands, smiling wistfully.

Manny the Penguin; probably Heero's most treasured possession. It was the first thing he had ever given the boy, a souvenir from their first fun day-out together, when he took the boy to Central Park Zoo. He had promised Heero that they would have many, _many_, more days such as that day, and so Heero had named his first toy after that promise. He became quite attached to the little thing, always carrying it around. While the only truly personal item his lover managed to come up with was a bloody pair of sneakers, his boy had much more to treasure, and _he_ was the one to give him that. It was a comfort like no other. In the very least, he had given Heero a life he could cherish.

Smiling sadly, Duo placed Manny back carefully by the monitor. He ran his eyes over the messy desk. One item caught his eyes between the piles of notebooks and textbooks, a familiar novel: _'Hemingway: The Old and the Sea'_.

Feeling a sting of tears in his eyes, Duo reached for the book, picked it up gently and just held it for a moment. It would appear that Heero got to finish reading the book after all...

Underneath it, he found a typed book report:

**THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA**

**Author: Ernest Hemingway**

**Reviewed by Heero Maxwell**

**Grade 10**

Curious, Duo picked up the page. He set the beer bottle down and read the report under the dim light coming in from the hallway:

**Introduction:**

_The Old Man and the Sea is famous for lots of reasons. _

Duo chuckled. Heero wasn't getting an "A" for this one, that's for sure. English wasn't his strong suit. He continued reading, smiling at the rebellious adolescent attitude practically leaping off the page:

_There's that whole Nobel Prize business (awarded to Ernest Hemingway in part for this book), establishing the author's fame, not to mention the "changing the style of English prose" factor or whatever. Oh, and the book was awarded the Pulitzer Prize. Written in 1952 AD, this novella about an old man attempting to catch a gigantic fish is the poster child of Hemingway books. It is a classic example of Hemingway's short, terse prose, the emotional weight of his works, and the trademark characteristics of his unemotional male protagonists. Good for him._

**_SO WHY SHOULD I CARE?_**

_Fight a gigantic marlin in the middle of the Gulf Stream? Who cares! Stave off hungry sharks while in a rowboat? Whatever. But really, when you get down to it, the only reason anyone should care about this novella is because it (A) teaches us how to successfully catch a 16-foot fish, and (B) it reminds us of our own loneliness and quest for survival._

_We all get lonely sometimes. We get put into boxes and packed away in the attic, labeled with things like "old", "young", "uncool", "unadventurous", "reckless", "brainy", "stupid", "shy", "bold", etc. and these labels slowly but surely wear away at our confidence, redefining us. And just when things seem really bad, when we've had it up to here with everything, we start dreaming again about "what if" and about the part of ourselves that doesn't fit in the attic boxes. What if things were different? What if there's more than what is given to us? What if we put ourselves out there and aspire to achieve something more than what life has offered us?_

_In the book, Santiago was once the best fisherman ever. He was the big cheese. But then he grew older and couldn't catch a fish for 84 days. Everyone assumes he is cursed and packs him away in the "old" and "unlucky" boxes. He fights the labels, and so do we. It's our natural human tendency. What else would compel a man to go out into the Gulf Stream in a tiny rowboat all by himself to fish for nearly three days? He needed to do something bigger. He needed to be who he felt he was inside, despite the labels and the people telling him he couldn't do it. He wanted to be as great as he once was, as great as he believed he could be, and that is the only reason I can think of when I write about why I should care for this book._ [[i]]

The report went on to discuss plot, characters and analysis of themes, symbolism and motifs, but Duo was done reading. He held the paper in two trembling hands, looking at it through tearful blue eyes. He stared numbly at Heero's written words until his vision blurred. His heart ached. It was as if Heero knew; like he knew that he was meant for something else, as though he could feel he was destined to do great things. Heero was dreaming of a future that was denied of him.

"Shit," Duo whispered. He turned to look at the sleeping boy on the bed, a wretched expression in his tearful blue eyes.

He was fully aware that he was fighting against an unbeatable enemy. Just like the squint Andrew had said: time was always striving to correct itself. As though desperate, it was throwing unlikely coincidences in Heero's way one after the other. His efforts to steer Heero clear of anything that might lead him back onto the path he was meant to take were being challenged. He tried to make it harder on time to correct its course, choosing to live in a secluded place with a small community and very little chance of outside influence or interference. Recently he even forbade Heero from going off-island unless he was leaving with the team to play on the mainland.

However, his efforts have been proven vain. Everything seemed to have converged on the island anyway: an OZ battleship appeared, searching for something he was desperately trying to hide, and if Duo had to take a wild guess he'd say that Zechs Merquise was the one commanding that ship. Hell, even _Relena Darlian_ moved to the island! He nearly had a heart attack when he realized that he was hired to fly her to the island, and then he totally flipped out when he saw her in Heero's room last night. The boy has never had a friend in his life, despite Duo's many efforts to help him connect with children his age, and now he had _her – again!_

But Duo should have seen this coming. Relena was destined to meet Heero, and Heero was destined to change her so she will change the world. Time could not ignore something _this_ big, so circumstances accumulated until time found a way to bring her here, to Heero. She became his first and only friend and it broke Duo's heart. He used to be Heero's best friend...

He turned slowly to face the bed. He stood there with Heero's essay in his hands and gaped miserably at his sleeping boy. He was fighting a losing battle, wasn't he?

**To be continued...**

* * *

[1] Heero's report is based on and taken almost entirely from: Shmoop Editorial Team. "The Old Man and the Sea." . Shmoop University, Inc., 11 Nov. 2008. Web. 23 Dec. 2014. URL

I only tweaked it here and there to suit the story's needs.


	14. Act Two - Part 5

**Paradox**

**Act Two – Part 5**

After a restless night, Duo was back at the airport before sunrise, dressed in a clean gray jumpsuit and carrying a small satchel. He left his red pickup on the runway where a few small planes stood empty, and made his way towards the medium-sized aircraft hangar at the edge of the airfield. The hangar was closed, sealed by a large single-panel door. He entered a code into a small control console by the door and once he got a green light he pressed the "up" button. The higher-power-door lifted vertically several inches before it began to tilt and open upwards, whirring quietly. Once fully open, Duo was faced with an empty hangar. He stepped inside.

He had faked a hydraulic system malfunction, fooling his fellow pilots into thinking that the hangar door wasn't working when in fact all he had done was change the entrance code and jam a few pistons, which he later unjammed. The rest of the pilots had no choice but to park their planes on the runway by the hangar while he had volunteered to "fix" the problem, taking advantage of the empty hangar and restricted access to secretly store something far bigger than a single aircraft: the Deathscythe Gundam.

He had worked day and night to fix the massive mobile suit so he could move it out of the airfield before anyone found out the truth. It was not the first time he had used the jammed door as an excuse, and it was about to get old real fast. He had to think of somewhere else where he could store the Gundam while doing maintenance.

Taking advantage of the heavy fog two nights ago, he moved Deathscythe out of the hangar and into the dark ocean waters. He used an old scooter he had hidden on the beach earlier that day to hurry back home before Heero noticed he was gone. The boy went out to escort Relena home, and little did he know that Duo had stepped through the front door but ten minutes before his return.

He had spent the whole day yesterday cleaning up the place, erasing any evidence of his misconduct. Today, he will change the code back, but not before he will move one last piece of incriminating evidence...

His steps echoed within the hollow metallic structure as the thirty-five-year-old man crossed the hangar briskly. He headed towards a closed green door at the far side of the hangar. Reaching inside his jumpsuit pocket, he pulled out a small silver key and slid it into the lock. He stopped, frowning warily, when he noted that the key didn't slip easily into the keyhole. Someone had tampered with the lock.

Scowling angrily, Duo shoved the key in forcefully and unlocked the plain wooden door. He opened it swiftly, glaring readily at the room behind it. It was a small office. An old wooden desk stood right in front of the door, behind it were some rusty metallic file cabinets and tall stacks of discarded yellowing papers were piled up everywhere. To his right was a small hatch overlooking the green airfield, and beneath it stood a dusty and ragged old sofa.

Lying on the small two-seat couch, covered by a thick wool blanket, was a sleeping teenage boy. He lay with his head resting against one armrest, while his legs were laid elevated and hanging up in the air, sticking out of the second armrest. A long chestnut-brown braid dangled to the floor by the boy's head, the hair frizzy from a restless sleep. On the floor by the sofa were an empty bottle of water and glass food containers, medical supplies (bandages, disinfectants and painkillers) and a pair of black boots. Duo's eyes immediately fell on the tossed boots, noting the traces of sand clinging to the tip and sole. He turned to the sleeping boy, glowering angrily.

"Da fuck did you go!?" he hissed furiously; "I told you not to leave this room!"

The boy on the couch, who has obviously been feigning sleep, opened his eyes and turned to face Duo with his own foul expression and seething cobalt-blue eyes.

"I had to make sure my buddy's alright," he growled nastily. "You can't just keep me locked up in here all day!"

"I told you I'll take care of it," Duo admonished harshly. "I left it right where I said I would... Jesus! You shouldn't be walking around yet. What if someone saw you!? Damn! _Da fuck_ is wrong with you!?"

"I have trust issues," the boy muttered and turned to gaze at the ceiling, his eyes burning defiantly.

"Well _obviously_," Duo snarled cynically, "you can't even trust _yourself!_"

The boy on the couch scoffed disdainfully. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared angrily at the ceiling.

A tense silence fell over the small office. Duo sighed. He took off the satchel he was carrying and placed it on the desk, opening it. He pulled out fresh supplies of food and water and placed them on the floor by the sofa. He picked up the empty bottle and glass containers and placed them in the bag. He turned back to the sofa.

"Turn around, I'll change your bandages," he ordered solemnly, sighing.

"I'm fine," the boy snapped bitingly. "I'll do it later."

"Da fuck you will," Duo retorted. "You think I can't recognize pain on my own fucking face? Roll over – _now_."

"Quit bossin' me around!" the teenage boy exploded angrily. "I'm not your damn kid!" he shouted, punching the sofa and grimacing at the pain his violent movement has elicited. He winced and fell silent, casting his gaze down quietly.

"No, you're not," Duo sighed. "He woulda—"

"I swear to God if you start talking about your boy again I'm gonna _hurl_," the injured adolescent cut in rudely, rolling his eyes.

Duo's face hardened into a cold glare. "His name is _Heero_," he snapped, offended.

"I know what his fucking name is already!" the boy burst angrily; "Jesus! Just... fuck! I don't give a shit about your fucking _kid_, okay? He mighta been a big _somebody_ where you came from, but here he's just a brat! The way I see it, the only _Heero _who used to mean something is _dead_, and that doesn't mean I cared for him either, so quit comparing! I ain't _anything_ like your kid and that's that! Get off my fucking back already!"

An awkward and heavy silence hovered in the air once more. Duo sat kneeling by the sofa, a sorrowful expression on his matured face as he studied the hateful boy. The insolent youth had no idea how much his words stung, how deeply they hurt. The kid was speaking about the Gundam pilot who died four months ago, while he was thinking of a man who perished so long ago... They both _meant_ something, both were important beyond measure, but that didn't mean that his son was any less significant! Heero was everything to him, and it hurt to hear his own voice dismiss him so lightly.

Nevertheless, Duo understood where the boy's flagrant fury was coming from. He deserved the blame; he deserved every bit of the resentment and abhor this boy felt towards him, and he knew that no matter how far he would go trying to gain this boy's trust, he would never have it, not after choosing to abandon him seven years ago. He had betrayed himself and once one has betrayed oneself, everyone else was relatively easy, so why should he be trusted? He had betrayed the whole fucking world by choosing Heero above all else, even himself. He had saved Heero while forsaking this boy to his bitter fate. There was no reason for this boy to trust him. But the thing was that right now, the boy had no other choice.

"Duo," he said softly, speaking to the boy. "C'mon, don't be an ass. Let me help."

"You've done quite enough of that, thank you," the teen muttered sullenly. "I can change my own damn bandages."

Duo rolled his eyes and fought back a frustrated sigh. Teenagers – _urgh!_ Jesus! What a _fucking handful!_ Between Heero and his younger-self, Duo was reaching the end of his rope. God, he was so sick of stupid kids giving him attitude!

He stood up, snatched the blanket off the boy swiftly, grabbed him by both arms and flipped him over.

"Hey!" the boy called out, but didn't struggle. He remained lying prone on the sofa and allowed Duo to lift his shirt up, exposing his back. His lower back was wrapped tightly in thick bandages all the way down to his buttocks; they were stained with blood.

"You made it worse, _asshole_," Duo berated as he unwrapped the bandaging, grimacing at the gruesome sight of the infected wound on the boy's tailbone area; it was secreting a disgusting opaque yellow and bloody discharge. He threw the bloody bandages to the floor.

"Da fuck did you do? I told you not to do any heavy lifting!"

"I didn't."

"Right," Duo muttered in dismay and reached for the medical supply kit on the floor. He disinfected the gory wound, sighing.

"What da fuck were you carrying out there?" he scolded.

"Dead weight."

Duo frowned as he continued to work.

"You shoulda stayed here like I told you."

"I had to make sure Scythe was safe."

"It is."

"Says _you_. For all I know instead of fixing it you sold it for parts!"

Duo almost laughed at that one; almost, but no. Instead, he felt troubled. How come he hadn't been so distrustful when leaving Heero alone all night in the Sweepers' hangar along with Wing and Scythe back when they first met? Then he wouldn't have had to wake up the next morning to find out Heero was taking off with a fully operational Wing while his buddy lay desecrated on the hangar floor, a few of its crucial parts missing.

It seemed that going through the hardships of war without Heero as a partner and a friend had turned this younger version of himself much bitterer. Add to that the fact that without Heero in the picture none of the pilots dared to attempt rescuing this boy when he fell prisoner into OZ's hands upon his return to space about two months ago, the 02 pilot's hostile attitude was to be expected.

Looking at the injured boy lying before him through a pair of anguished blue eyes, Duo continued working to carefully clean the boy's wound.

The decision to meet with his present-day-self hadn't come easily. Duo had been determined to sit things out this time around and let the war rage on while he raised Heero in a remote corner of the world. Events seemed to be unfolding as they had before and as years went by Duo became fairly certain that maybe he was in the clear and that time _did_ manage to fix itself after all.

The Gundams came to Earth on April 7th AC 195 just like they did the first time around. He had followed their progress as much as he could, comparing the targets they attacked to the targets he had listed when he had first arrived at this timeline. He was relieved to see that so far the Gundams have been attacking the same targets from the first time around. There were even reports of a Winged Gundam, which meant that Dr. J did find himself another pilot.

He had seen the Wing Gundam on the news the day its pilot was tricked into firing at Marshal Noventa's plane, killing a delegation of peaceful Alliance leaders just like Heero had done the first time. Thus the Wing Gundam had been fooled twice (at least from Duo's perspective) by the same OZ trick, even though the pilot was different. Following the incident, the Alliance declared war on the Colonies before it was overturned from within and OZ took over as the new ruling power. Duo followed the events closely as they unfolded. It really looked like things were going to play out the same way they did before. Time seemed to be on the right course.

Then, about three months ago, OZ proudly advertised on the news that they have managed to defeat the Winged Gundam in Siberia, killing the pilot and seizing the wreckage. That got Duo worried. He hoped it was just false propaganda. He truly hoped that the new 01 pilot survived the battle in Siberia as Heero had done. Heero had also dropped off radar for a while after the battle, so the 01 pilot could still be alive...

That hope was vanquished when OZ released the dead pilot's identity and picture soon after the battle; he was a young Asian boy. It was all over the media. The press was having a field day discussing the identity of the mysterious youth from L1 who became a fearsome Gundam pilot and then lost his life in battle at fifteen. Duo was devastated. It looked like Dr. J had bet on the wrong horse this time around. 01 was really dead, which meant that the pilots were now one hand short and things weren't going to play out the same way they did before.

Soon afterwards, OZ bragged about capturing the five engineers who built the Gundams. They called them "mad scientists" and "foes to the Colonies and the people of Earth", swaying public opinion against the Gundams. Then, about two months later, OZ announced that they've managed to capture a second Gundam and its pilot – another nameless boy, this time from L2. Duo didn't even have to guess to whom they were referring. He already knew that it was his present-day-self, and that this time around – without Heero to save him – the boy was totally _screwed_.

Suddenly, his younger-self's face was all over the media (thank God Heero never bothered watching the news...). OZ were planning on getting rid of both the Gundam and its young pilot on live television for all to see!

He couldn't afford to sit tight anymore. He had to do something. Not just because OZ was going to kill him (in a way), but also because with two pilots out of the picture, it seemed far less likely that the war would end as it was supposed to – with a peaceful ceasefire and mutual understanding between both sides that it was time to end the pointless fighting.

It was summertime and the island was bustling with tourists. He was swamped with work, so it wasn't hard finding an excuse to leave the island for a few days. Heero didn't think too much of it and didn't require any explanations, accepting Duo's departure and carrying on about his day. For Duo, however, leaving couldn't have been more difficult. It wasn't just any goodbye; it could have very well been their final goodbye and Heero wouldn't have realized it until it was too late.

Duo didn't know if he was ever going to make it back home. There was a pretty good chance he might die out there while trying to bust his present-self out of a heavily secured OZ prison. It was too cruel of an abandonment, leaving Heero with no explanations, breaking every promise he has ever made. The boy deserved better and Duo almost regretted the whole thing, but he couldn't. Bigger things were at stake. He wished there was a way he could make Heero understand, but there was none. So he left without even a hug or a heartfelt goodbye, just a _'see ya later'_ and _'take care while I'm gone'_, to which he received Heero's dismissive grunt and that was it. He left for colony C-102.

This time around, he knew exactly towards what he was headed and how things would mostly likely play out. He more or less mimicked Heero's plan from when he had rescued him the first time around, sneaking into the base along with a supply shipment, infiltrating the prison floor through service conduits, planting explosives at strategic locations to create a distraction and then using the Mobile Dolls to raise havoc on the base as he set OZ soldiers as the main target. He might have been a bit rusty after close to eight years of living peacefully on a green island in the midst of a blue ocean, but he had no problem stepping back into his old shoes as a terrorist. It was like riding a bike and surprisingly enough, the plan went off without a hitch.

The only major tweak he made in Heero's original plan was coming for the Deathscythe Gundam as well. His old buddy was in pretty bad shape, but still operational. He decided to take it with him to Earth instead of letting OZ destroy it this time around. He couldn't take the chance that things will keep on playing out as they did before. The first time around when OZ captured the five scientists who built the Gundams and forced them to design new MS models, the five old men had also built new upgraded Gundams in secret, but Duo couldn't count on it happening this time around. Nothing was certain anymore.

His heart was thumping wildly when he entered the small prison cell where his younger-self was being held. He could clearly remember what it had felt like when Heero came for him that first time around. He had sat alone in the dark, preparing for death, when suddenly the door swooshed open and a blinding column of white light tumbled into the room. Looking up, he saw a familiar silhouette standing against a glowing white background, immediately recognizing his rescuer as Heero. It was then when he had realized that they were more than just comrades; they were friends.

This time around, when Gundam pilot Duo Maxwell looked up at the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway of his prison cell, there was no recognition on his bruised and bloody face. He probably thought that an OZ soldier was there to drag him off to another session of torturous interrogation, and when Duo revealed himself, stepping out of the blinding light and into the shadows, his long braid swinging behind his back, the boy sitting on the floor gaped at him, slacked-jawed and completely stupefied.

_'I ain't got time to explain,'_ he had said as he approached the stunned teenager and helped him up to his shaky feet, throwing the boy's arm around his shoulders for support. _'I'll get you outta here first, then we'll talk,' _he promised, giving the dazed pilot no time to respond as he headed out of the cell. Glancing at the boy as they walked away, he noted the thunderstruck expression on his pale and battered face as he stared at his long braid.

_'Are... are you for real?'_ the boy had mumbled weakly before he had finally fainted. Seeing an adult version of himself was too much of a shock for the injured pilot; it was probably for the best. Slinging the boy's slim body over his shoulders in a fireman's carry, Duo continued with his exit strategy.

The whole thing didn't take more than three days. He was back on Earth in no time, bringing both Deathscythe and its pilot with him. He hid them in the airport hangar, did his best to tend the boy's grave injuries, made sure he was resting comfortably and then came back home in time for supper, exhausted but thrilled to have made it back home in one piece.

All he wanted to do then was to hug his son tightly for a good long while, but instead he had settled for Heero's cynical _'welcome back'_ smirk for a greeting and a snippy_ 'what's for dinner?'_ as the boy slammed the refrigerator's door in annoyance. Heero was completely clueless as to what had transpired and maybe that was for the best, because Duo really needed things to just go back to normal.

But _"normal" _has become nothing more than a distant and wistful dream. Knowing that the Gundam pilots were now _two_ hands short, with 01 gone and 02 out of commission due to the injuries he had sustained, Duo stepped back into his old shoes and filled in for his younger-self while the boy recovered quietly on the island. The God of Death was back from Hell: older, wiser, and far deadlier. OZ never knew what was coming.

Funny thing about humans: on the one hand, they seem to have a sense of what they can comfortably put up with, but they also have an ability to go beyond that, for better or for worse. Sometimes it meant that when pushed past what one thinks could possibly be his limit, one finds oneself carrying through despite the fact that initially it seemed like something impossible. But it was more often the case that things with which people felt repulsion were things that they may find themselves carrying out anyway. Knowing that one was doing something wrong often made one uncomfortable, but it was hardly ever enough to stop one from doing it. Hence, Duo found himself behind the controls of a Gundam yet again.

And although older, wiser and more experienced, this time around was even harder than the first. Maybe because this time, Duo knew better. He wasn't a brash teenage boy anymore, blinded by ideology and sent into the fight with an exaggerated sense of justice. The heart of being a Gundam pilot was to go against what you knew was "right", knowing you were doing it for a noble cause. It was a kind of life that destroyed the legitimacy of one's moral order, betraying one's own conscience. The very concept disordered the soul, injuring it. As a kid he didn't think much of it. Now, his soul was crying out in agony. Moral injuries were the kind of wounds that never healed. He was old enough to understand that the consequences of war went beyond those who died; they tainted the lives of those who survived.

But, since humans were creatures who often ignored what their conscience dictated, Duo went to war once more. This time he wasn't just fighting for the Colonies. This time, it was for humanity as a whole and, more importantly, for Heero.

He fixed Deathscythe to the best of his abilities, using limited resources, many hours spent online searching and shopping for parts and a _whole lot_ of improvising. He managed to bring it back to about 65% of its full capacity and accepted 02's missions for him. The damaged Gundam was missing its right arm _and_ the scythe. It wasn't easy pulling off a decent mission in the state Deathscythe was in, so Duo had stolen a small arsenal of weapons from various enemy mobile suits, as well as a Leo's arm. However, improvising could only go so far. Deathscythe looked like freaking _Frankenstein_, and its systems were rejecting the "donated organs" he had procured. It wasn't going to last much longer in its crumbling state.

Most of the operations he was sent on were solo missions, some of which he had done the first time around (which made them a bit easier), and others were joint operations he had never executed before. Things were changing rapidly. The timeline was deviating dangerously from its previous course. OZ still had the upper hand and it was still unified under the Romefeller Foundation. Duo was worried. In the original timeline OZ split into two factions by this point: the Treize Faction and those still loyal to Romefeller. He had inadvertently accomplished what the remaining Romefeller Faction tried to achieve when building the Teardrop time capsule: he had tipped the scale in their favor. He had to find a way to divert history back to its original course. The only way to do that was to help the Gundam pilots.

Using the detailed notes and memoirs he had written years ago, Duo provided the pilots with viable intelligence. He told them he had a source. Most of the time, his intel proved correct so they didn't question him much. The other pilots had no idea they were fighting alongside a different and older Duo while his younger-self recuperated safely on the island. He communicated with them via audio only, selling them this crappy excuse that his visual communication system was busted and he could never find the time to fix it properly. That wasn't a _total_ lie, because aside from fighting OZ and fixing the damn Gundam after every mission, he really didn't have much time for anything else; not for Heero or for work.

But real life still waited for him outside the battlefield. It wasn't easy fighting for the militia again. Moral implications and thémis [[1]] aside, it was hard keeping up with his role as a father and a provider while also fighting in his younger-self's stead. The two lives he was living clashed awfully.

One time his cellphone rang while he was in the middle of a damn mission. It was Heero's school and he panicked, thinking something might have happened to his boy. So while holding his mobile phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, both hands frantically working Scythe's controls to keep up with the multitude of enemy mobile suits firing at him, he took the call, shouting over the clamor of battle. It was Heero's principal, and all he wanted to know was if he was going to attend the PTA meeting the school was holding for parents whose kids were entering their sophomore year in a few days. Duo had laughed, almost crying, and told the man that he would try to make it if work permits. He threw the phone aside, clutched Scythe's stick tightly and was back in Shinigami-mode in no time.

On another occasion, his banker called. The man wanted to inform him that he had overdrawn his checking account – in the middle of a fucking MS chase! With no real income for the past two months (because he was so busy fighting), the bills piled up and he had to dip into his savings to pay his debts and make sure he could leave Heero enough cash to get by while he was away. So in the midst of battle he found himself ordering his banker to take money from his savings account and transfer it to his checking account as he dodged OZ mobile suits and made a run for it while his banker politely thanked him for his business. It was surreal!

Sometimes he missed being a careless kid again. How could he possibly dedicate himself to the mission when he was stressing over bouncing mortgage payments!? It was hard enough fighting with an improvised MS, not to mention fretting over bills and whatnot. All it would take was losing his focus for _one _second and he'd be a goner. Then what would happen? His mortgage life insurance would pay out the sufficient sum to repay the outstanding mortgage, meaning Heero will get to keep the house, but first the boy will be taken into foster care until he'll come of age. Hell no! He wasn't going to let that happen! There was no way his son was going to be shuffled from one foster home to another for three damn years!

Surviving was the only acceptable option, but just in case Duo had contacted his lawyer about filing a petition to the Family Court Judge to grant Heero an emancipated status [[2]], thus making sure he will not be taken in by the System upon his death. It would be a last resort. He will only sign those papers if he knew there would be no chance of ever coming back.

Being an adult sucked – big time.

Duo finished dressing the boy's wound. He turned Young-Duo around gently and covered him with the blanket. The boy was watching him with a pair of livid blue eyes burning with contempt.

"So did you patch it up?"

"Barely. Just enough to keep it going for a while longer."

"You haffta send it to Howard," the boy grumbled petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's not an option at the moment," Duo replied calmly.

"If you're so keen on playin' the _responsible adult_, then why'd you wreck it in the first place?!" the teenage pilot burst angrily.

"Because I was out there doing _your_ job!"

"Yeah, well, you weren't doin' it very well if my buddy's all messed up again!"

"Says the guy who was easily defeated and captured by OZ cuz he couldn't beat a bunch of Taurus _dolls_!"

"Like _you_ coulda done better running on fumes!"

The kid had him there. He hadn't done better at the time, but now things were different. He was a far better pilot; seasoned, extremely calculated and deliberate in his attacks – a crucial trait considering he was running low on just about everything: fuel and ammo. It wasn't easy pulling off a decent mission when one of your MS's arms was shorter than the other and you're missing a crucial weapon; this bratty kid certainly couldn't do it in his current skill-level, not that the boy would ever admit to it, and Duo didn't expect him to; all he asked for was that the boy recuperate quietly, but it would seem that staying put and being quiet was too much to ask of this kid... why was he not surprised?

"So any new gigs come up?" Young-Duo finally asked while glaring fiercely at the sofa.

"Thankfully... none," Adult-Duo replied quietly as he continued to tidy up the small room. "It's been a quiet few days."

"Any movement from that OZ ship?" the boy questioned tensely.

"No," Duo said as he leaned against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest while staring starkly at the floor. "But they won't sit still for much longer," he said; "They know you're here... They're just too chicken to come after you."

"Well, God bless the almighty America..." the teenage boy muttered cynically and sighed as he slumped against the pillow. He closed his eyes tiredly. "So what's next?" he asked, opening his eyes and staring bleakly at the celling. "How much longer do I haffta stay cooped up in here?"

"Not long," Duo assured him. "I was planning on getting you outta here today, but now with this bleeding..." He sighed. This time around OZ had held the boy for far longer than when he was held captive. The abuse the boy had been subjected to during his incarceration was far graver than what he had suffered the first time around: broken ribs, fractured bones, severe blunt trauma... the kid was a mess and recovery was taking much longer than expected. Unlike before, when Heero took him to a hospital where his wounds were tended properly, Duo had to settle for field-medicine procedures and hope for the best. He tended to the boy's injuries the best he could, splinting broken limbs and treating his internal injuries with IV feedings, antibiotics, painkillers and oxygen supply to help him breathe as he struggled against his broken ribs.

Thankfully, the young pilot had stopped pissing blood after a couple of days, which meant that his internal injuries weren't as severe as Duo had feared; just mild trauma to the kidneys, it seemed. The kid didn't require any surgery, but there was a deep nasty cyst below his tailbone, near the natal cleft of the buttocks, constantly secreting a bloody discharge and causing a lot of discomfort and pain.

Duo was familiar with the injury. In the trade, they called it "MS Disease" [[3]]. These pilonidal cysts were very painful, and typically occurred among males between the ages of 15 and 35. The condition was widespread in the military during the war, termed "MS Pilots' Disease", because a large portion of people hospitalized for it were MS pilots, and prolonged bumpy rides in a mobile suit's cockpit were believed to cause the condition due to excessive sweating, irritation and pressure on the coccyx. And, while blunt trauma didn't usually cause a pilonidal cyst, a localized injury to the area may result in "MS Disease" in those prone to it, or make the outbreak worse by causing inflammation to an existing cyst. There was no telling whether the disease developed before or after the boy's capture, but the imprisonment had certainly played a role in the boy's condition, after being subjected to a fair share of blunt trauma in addition to very poor hygiene over a few weeks span. In sum, it was a pretty nasty business; a very painful and embarrassing disease most pilots kept to themselves... only this boy couldn't. He needed help.

After doing some research, Duo tried to treat the boy with antibiotics, hot compresses and depilatory creams to remove the hairs growing in the infected area, but after a week or so he saw that he had no choice but to lance the infection and drain the pus surgically. _That_ was a _"fun" _day...

He was no field-surgeon, but the procedure was simple enough; just a small incision to puncture the skin using a sterile scalpel, to drain out the pus. That was the easy part. The real hassle was the post-surgical wound packing – replacing bandages daily for about four weeks now, with no end in sight because the open incision was still secreting a disgusting discharge. Every day he had to shove a sterile bandage into the gory wound to absorb the pus and prevent the wound from closing prematurely. The procedure hurt like hell, but it was necessary. It was no wonder the injured teenager was always so pissed at him; he has become the boy's torturer on a daily basis.

In short, it didn't look like the young pilot would be able to sit in a cockpit anytime soon. Recovery could take up to two months before the wound closes, and Duo didn't know if he could last that long.

During his first two weeks on the island, the injured pilot was high on painkillers most of the time and spent his days sleeping. Now, however, as he began to feel better, the boy was becoming a real pain in the ass (pun intended). Duo had to admit, he never realized just how _annoying_ he had been as a kid, even though Heero used to tease him about it regularly. Now, sadly, he got to experience it firsthand. He was getting on his own nerves! There simply had to be irony in there somewhere... He could just picture that amused _'I told you so'_ smirk on his lover's handsome face...

Duo quickly stopped himself, as he often did when his mind wandered back to the "Previous Heero". It didn't feel right thinking about him in those terms. The face he used to admire sexually was now his _son's_ face. It was too disturbing to even think about, so he tried not to. He did what he could to get over his lost love, seeking one-night-stands whenever he was away from home. He had "a man in every port" – guys who'd always answer his booty-call whenever he was in town – because there was no way in Hell he would _ever_ reveal his sexual orientation on the island and be singled out as the only _fag_ in New Shoreham. He hasn't had one meaningful romantic relationship in over eight years, and chances were that he never will. No one could ever replace what he had lost, so his occasional hook-up guys would simply have to do.

"You shouldn't have left the airfield," Duo admonished the boy harshly; "I need you to be up and running soon. We're out of time. The others are getting suspicious."

"Oh yeah?" the boy smirked nastily, amused.

"Yeah," Duo grunted huffily; "I'm starting to think Connecticut was a setup. There was no mission. They just wanted to see me show up with Scythe. They don't think I'm you."

"That cuz you ain't," the boy snarled nastily but Duo ignored his sassy attitude.

"They probably think you're still being held by OZ, that they're being manipulated. If that's the case, chances are that they won't listen to my intel. We haftta contact the others and tell them the truth."

"And say what exactly!?" the boy exploded heatedly, and immediately regretted his animated reaction when his ribs flared up in pain. He groaned, clutching his chest, and fell back against the sofa, glaring defiantly at his older-self.

"What am I gonna tell 'em – huh!? That I came back from the future to give 'em intel because I screwed shit up? Da fuck is going to believe _that_!?"

"Better that than letting them think they're being played by OZ," Duo insisted; "I need them to listen to me. If they don't do as I say, they won't be able to beat the dolls and then they won't stand a chance winning this campaign. You've seen what those things are capable of... we need to be smart about this or we'll lose for sure."

"We already won this shit once!" the boy muttered disgruntledly; "and now thanks to you, _homeboy_, we haffta do it allova again – and with much lousier odds! They oughtta shoot you in da _fucking face_ for what you did! Fuck! I bet Wufei's gonna shoot me too – just for the heck of it – and I ain't got nuthin' to do with this shit! Face it, dude, you totally fucked us up! And for what – so you could save your damn kid!?"

Duo stood up, shaking his head in disappointment as he placed the medical supplied back inside the kit.

"I hope someday you'll get why I did it," he spoke tiredly; "Because I'm tired of trying to explain it to you. You just don't get what it's like to..." he allowed his voice to fade, sighing quietly.

"To what?" the boy asked, scowling impatiently.

"Never mind," Duo muttered and closed the first aid kit. "Forget it. You'll never get it now, I'm sorry," he apologized earnestly, gazing sorrowfully at the boy lying on the sofa; a boy who didn't even know he had been robbed of a chance to meet the love of his life.

The teenager snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, whatever... I get it. Sucks to be you." He turned away from his older counterpart, rolling over on his side and thus turning his back at Duo. He tucked his arms under his head and he glared angrily at the sofa's backrest.

Duo sighed. He was about to open his mouth to say something, wishing to pacify the boy, but then he heard a noise. The boy's head jerking in the direction of the small window above the sofa. Duo turned to the window as well. He studied it intently, frowning. More faint noises drifted from the outside; someone was snooping outside the hangar – not one person, but a few... at least five.

"Shit," Duo whispered under his breath.

"OZ?" The young pilot asked anxiously as he struggled to get up, pushing off the sofa with a low groan.

"Probably," Duo whispered back.

The teenager smirked nastily. "Guess they got tired of waiting," he snarled. Duo sent him a reprimanding glance, not appreciating the attitude.

"Stay here," he ordered and walked out of the small office, closing the door behind him. He headed out of the empty hangar, grabbing a filthy cloth on his way. Outside, the sun has just begun to rise, tinting the skies with soft pinkish hues. The air was chilly and still; everything was dead quiet in this early morning hour.

A group of soldiers stood outside the hangar door; they were geared for a recon mission – an inland scouting team. It was obvious by their uniform that they weren't US military. It took Duo less than a spilt of a second to recognize the badges on their shoulders as OZ ranks. The four tense-looking men and their fearsome leader, a sergeant by the rank on his arm, were fully armed and ready retaliate against any threat. The burly middle-aged man stood three steps ahead of his team, holding his standard M4 assault rifle readily. He ran his sharp dark eyes over Duo quickly, sizing him up.

Duo gave the man his best devil-may-care smile and completed his approached, wiping his hands on the greasy cloth to appear as though they had interrupted his work.

"Morning, gentlemen!" he greeted cheerfully; "Sorry, we're still closed. A bit too early to be open for business, yanno?" he joked and the team leader scowled at him darkly.

"Yet _you're _here," he grunted.

"Hey, what can I say – early bird catches the worm, right?" Duo dismissed his comment with a chuckle. "So, anything I can do for you, sergeant?"

The older man regarded him coldly for a moment. "Have you spotted any suspicious activity around these parts?" he demanded sternly.

Duo pretended to be thinking about it for a moment. "Hmm... you mean aside from the military snooping around? Nope, can't say I have. Why?"

The sergeant ignored his question. "We'll need to have a look inside," he said, gesturing with his rifle towards the hangar. Duo smiled and stepped aside, clearing their path.

"Sure," he chirped carelessly; "Knock yourself out." He gestured a welcoming hand towards the hangar. "Let me know if you need anything!" he called after them as he followed the team of five soldiers inside. His voice echoed loudly inside the empty hangar, loud enough for his younger-self to hear and hide any evidence of his presence in the back office.

Duo watched the group of OZ soldiers tensely as they walked around the large empty hangar, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

"Why are the aircrafts parked outside?" The sergeant turned to question Duo, holding his rifle readily.

"The door was jammed," Duo replied smoothly. "I came in early to fix it," he said, gesturing towards the hangar door with his dirty cloth.

The sergeant studied him carefully, trying to decide whether he was telling the truth or not.

"Sir," one of the other soldiers called for the man's attention; the young Ozzie was standing next to the closed green door at the back of the hangar. The sergeant gave him the go-ahead to open it, nodding his head curtly at the door.

Duo held his breath as two soldiers stepped into the small office. He waited edgily while they searched inside, leaving nothing unturned. They moved a few filing cabinets, searched the small bathroom in the back and tilted the sofa to peek behind it. Duo shoved two hands into his jumpsuit pockets, whistling a cheery tune. He watched them closely, trying not to appear as tense as he felt.

"Clear," one of the soldiers finally said as he stepped back into the main hall, followed by his teammate. The sergeant took a step into the office, turned his head left and right to have a look for himself while holding his weapon. He nodded to confirm and stepped away from the small office.

"Very well," he turned to Duo; "carry on," he muttered and motioned his team to head out.

"Aye-aye, sir!" Duo smirked and added a mock-salute for effect. The sergeant paused, assessing Duo warily; he hadn't missed on the deliberate use of naval language – an admission that the man knew they came from the battleship. Duo had just purposely revealed that he was no fool; he knew that OZ had no business being on US soil, and he made sure that the sergeant knew it would be better to just pack up and leave now before things got... complicated.

The older man gave Duo a brisk nod, acknowledging the wordless threat. His ominous dark eyes glared a warning, keeping eye contact even as he turned to leave. Finally, the OZ sergeant left to join his team outside the hangar. Duo remained inside, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he watched the soldiers leave.

He waited a good long while before stepping back into the office. He rearranged the filing cabinets and the sofa, as though simply cleaning up the mess the soldiers left behind, while he was actually trying to figure out where his young ward had vanished. There was no sign of the injured Gundam pilot, or any evidence that he had ever stayed in that room. The supplies were gone... and so was Duo Maxwell.

"Shit," Duo hissed under his breath, punching the desk angrily. "Damn _brat!_"

Somewhere... sometime... way out there in the great vastness of time and space, beyond life or death, his lover was probably laughing his sexy little ass off...

**To be continued...**

* * *

[1] Themis: what's right, the order of things; the structure by which we can understand the world as predictable and well-ordered.

[2] Emancipation means that a teenager (usually between the ages of 16-18) is freed from the custody and control of his parents/guardians and the state before turning 18, thus becoming a legal adult with all that it entails.

[3] A twist on the notorious Jeep riders' Disease, a condition widespread in the military and by no means limited to jeeps. Various Armored Fighting Vehicle drivers are prone to it too. I've witnessed firsthand how this condition can cripple a soldier... Nasty, nasty, nasty! _Yuck!_


	15. Act Two - Part 6

**Act Two – Part 6:**

There weren't many dining-out choices left on the island during the off-season. Most places only opened for business around April, but there were a few that served local clientele throughout the colder months of the year as well. Poor People's Pub on Ocean Avenue was one of those rare places. During the summer, the place was always packed, bustling and noisy, but come autumn it became a cool, laidback bar; a local hangout more suitable for the low-key life of the people living on the island. Plus, it was a stone's throw away from the airfield and conveniently located on Duo's way home. He was one of the regulars.

Dressed in his grease-stained jumpsuit, Duo settled into one of the bar stools with a quiet groan. He flipped his long braid over his shoulder and leaned an elbow against the polished bar surface, sighing. His weary cobalt-blue eyes sought the large clock above the liquor display. It was 11:00 AM; a good time as any to start drinking.

He was fully aware that he's been overdoing it with the alcohol lately, but he couldn't help it. It was the only way to silence his shrieking conscience.

Once, in another lifetime, he had firmly believed in the path he had chosen. That was what fools did, that was how they became soldiers, but he was no longer a fool and he was so tired of being a soldier. Life was wearing him down fast, leaving him no choice but to drown his sorrows with liquor just so he could keep on functioning day by day.

He leaned his head on the hand resting on the bar and closed his aching eyes for a short peaceful moment.

He remembered a time when everything was so clear, so simple. He remembered fighting the Alliance for the simple reason that it had taken away the smiles from people's faces. All he wanted was to bring back those smiles, even at times when it looked like people didn't want them returned [[1]]. Now, he was only fighting to ensure his son's future; Heero's was the only smile he cared about (although, quite frankly, he could not recall the last time he had seen his boy's smile). It was a selfish fight and it dictated that he shouldn't always be on the Gundams' side. His intel wasn't meant to ensure that the Gundam pilots always emerged victorious. He had sent them out to fail as well, which was why he was certain they were suspicious of him and the intelligence he provided. He was using them as a tool to put history back on course.

It was much like a game of chess and his job was to put all five major players back in their rightful place before checkmate:

First, there was the Romefeller Foundation, the true ruling power behind OZ. Romefeller was beginning to solidify its control over the world by bringing more nations into its fold. Eventually, the Foundation was supposed to consolidate all of its military power, discard national boundaries and unite Earth, thus heading towards peace.

Then, when Earth no longer posed a problem, there will be four forces left in space: the OZ Space Force – still loyal to Treize Khushrenada rather than Romefeller, and the White Fang – a militant branch of the Colony Autonomy Organization and the original force behind the Gundams. The large terrorist organization currently posed the biggest problem, because they were so unpredictable.

That left two more powers, although neither was strong enough to truly be considered as such: one was the Colony citizens who did not associate themselves with White Fang and other extremists. They were a force that far outnumbered the other forces, but they lacked the organizational power to act; they were a force of public opinion and in the end, Duo knew, it will be their wish for peace that will eventually end the war. They were a force to be reckoned with, even if they didn't know it yet.

Last and sadly least, were the Gundams – the most insignificant power of all. The Gundams were an offshoot of the militia but by no means loyal to White Fang, since they've gone against the original mission-goal of Operation Meteor. The five scientists who built the Gundams and trained the pilots changed the plan, sending the five Gundams to Earth in order to dismantle OZ and bring peace through less extreme measures. That wasn't enough for White Fang, so the two went their separate ways. If the Gundams could be associated with anyone, it would be the Colony citizens: if the Colonies were to be happy, the Gundams would be happy and lay down their arms.

So, in order to end the war, he needed all five major players back where they were supposed to be by this point of the game, starting with having Romefeller dismiss Treize from his command of OZ. That will only happen if the Foundation came to depend mainly on Mobile Dolls, but sadly those have yet to become widespread throughout the organization because there was no need to implement the MD program so long as OZ had the upper hand over the Gundams.

Despite heavy losses at the hands of the Gundams, OZ was able to survive. The pilots were simply not causing enough damage to drive Romefeller into using Mobile Dolls more, consequently instigating Treize to openly express his disapproval of the Mobile Dolls Program and being summarily relieved of his command and placed under house arrest.

Then, with Treize out of the picture, several OZ officers loyal to him will create a splinter-group within OZ –the Treize Faction. The group will be deemed an enemy of the Romefeller Foundation. It will move to space, as OZ Space Force, and butt heads with White Fang until the two will basically cancel each other out.

Well, that was the plan anyway. He had no guarantees it would work out this way a second time around, but he had nothing else to go on.

So his first priority was more or less to lead Romefeller into using more Mobile Dolls, driving them to begin mass production on the Lunar Base as they've done the first time around. Good God, whose side was he on anyway?

Duo groaned quietly, hiding his face in his hand as he leaned against the bar. He grimaced, feeling a headache coming on.

He was in way over his head. He was never the math-whiz (that was Heero's department), and aiming to solve the same equation without the key variables and still getting the same result was proving to be quite difficult, if not impossible. He was really at his wits' end trying to work his way around crucial missing factors. This kind of job better suited a strategic tactical officer, not a pilot. He was the hand that executed the orders; he had no idea what kind of deliberations lay behind his superior's decisions. Suddenly he found himself playing the role of a strategic forecaster, trying to compensate for his lack of foresight with knowledge of another lifetime. Man, what a fucking mess! He was _this _close to just saying _'fuck it!'_ and damn it all to Hell! Let the equation solve itself! The war had to end _sometime_, right? Fate couldn't leave it all to Heero and be done with it, right? There had to be another way... but what?

"A little early for happy hour, isn't it?" A smug female voice taunting him jokingly. Duo opened his eyes and shifted his gaze lazily towards the speaker: a blonde middle-aged woman with short hair and a tanned, slightly wrinkled, face. She stood behind the bar, holding a bottle of Jameson whiskey.

"Not with the kind of day I'm having," the weary-man muttered a bitter response. He gave her a sad little smile. "Can you pour me one on the rocks?"

The woman smiled in sympathy and reached for a whiskey glass. She threw in two blocks of ice and then poured the man his drink.

"So, what's up, Sunshine?" she asked cynically as she served him his whiskey and reached for another glass, pouring herself a drink as well. "You look like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders."

Duo scoffed, chuckling bitterly, and sipped his drink. "Sounds about right," he muttered, smirking cynically.

"Care to share?"

Duo ignored her and kept drinking.

"Fine then," the woman grunted and drank a bit of whiskey; "If you're not going to talk, then I'm gonna haffta fill the silence with another _excruciating_ story by Daphne Craig!"

Duo smirked behind his glass. "Think I could use the distraction..."

She smiled. "Okay, then let's see... Hmm... I could start by telling you about how I kicked this guy out for starting a brawl last night..."

"Oh, I'd like that one," Duo snarled and set the glass on the shiny bar. He reached for a bowl of salty pretzels and munched on a few.

"Or I could go on about this _gorgeous _guy who came in the other day: tall, blond, strapping, elegant..." she said while swaying her shoulders playfully; "Jesus... Like a fucking European prince."

"Oh yeah?" Duo smiled tiredly, giving her this curious look; "You made a pass at him?"

"I wish!" She laughed. "Too young for my taste and besides, he was with this girl... who looked more like a _boy_, go figure. But between you and me, I kinda think he was gay. I mean, no one _that_ gorgeous could ever be straight and his hair was almost as long as yours! Maybe I shoulda sent him your way..." She smirked.

He sent her a dirty look; a wordless reprimand for insinuating what he worked so hard to deny. She laughed, shaking her head knowingly. Even though he had never confirmed it, Daphne was the only person on the island who knew for certain that he was playing for the other team. After spending so many lonely nights at her bar, warding off every single flirting lady who dared come his way, it was only natural that she knew. Maybe that was why he felt so comfortable coming to her when he felt troubled.

"Oh, I know!" Daphne called in mock-excitement; "I can tell you about the time I saw this guy, who looked exactly like my Ex? But it wasn't Danny... it was a total stranger... who was also named Danny."

"Could be kinda interesting," Duo mumbled and pointed at his empty glass.

"Oh yeah, it's a great one," she muttered cynically and poured him another drink. She observed Duo worriedly as he drank.

"I gotta tell you, hun, you've been leaning a bit towards the alcoholic side lately..."

"I'm just having a bad day..." Duo sighed and sipped more whiskey. "Scratch that," he muttered, tipping the glass down for a moment; "Make it a bad _year_," he corrected and then finished his drink in a single gulp, tilting the glass up sharply.

"Heero?" Daphne ventured an educated guess.

"Among other things," Duo whispered and Daphne smiled helplessly.

"Teenagers, huh?" she scoffed; "They sure grow up fast..."

"...and furious," Duo grunted irately and set the empty glass down on the bar. Daphne laughed and opened the Jameson again.

"Well, as one single parent to another, I feel your pain," she sympathized and she poured him another drink; "This one is on the house." She smiled.

Duo returned the gesture halfheartedly. "Thanks," he mumbled and raised his third glass of whiskey. Before it even touched his mouth, his cellphone rang. He sighed and placed the whiskey back down on the bar. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. It was Heero's school.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. What was that boy up to now?

He answered the call, scowling warily. Daphne pretended to be busy polishing glasses as she observed him worriedly, listening in:

"Da fuck you mean he hasn't been to school for _two_ _days_!?" Duo exploded heatedly and Daphne flinched, nearly dropping a glass.

"Seven kids in his damn class and it takes you _this long_ to notice he's missing!?"

Daphne had to stifle a smile. She felt for the young father, but, since a sorrow shared was a sorrow halved, she couldn't help but smile as she recalled being in his position, agonizing over the growing pains of raising her teenage daughter.

"No, I will _not_ calm down!" Duo exclaimed; "I trust you with my kid and you can't even keep track of his attendance!? Jesus!" He cussed and jumped off the bar stool. Holding his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, he shoved his other hand into his jumpsuit pocket and pulled out his wallet. He rummaged through it hastily, but the wallet was empty.

"Shit," his whispered and looked guiltily up at Daphne.

"Don't worry about it," she reassured him with a smile. "I'll put it on your tab. Go find that prodigal son of yours."

He nodded in thanks, grabbed his car keys from the bar and hurried outside while still speaking on the phone.

"No, there's no need to call the _cops_," he told the caller, speaking more calmly as he entered his red pickup truck. "I got this," he grunted, shoving the keys into the ignition. "Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it... Thanks," he muttered and hung up the call, throwing the phone onto the passenger seat.

"I swear to God Heero, you are _so_ _fucking grounded_ this time!" Duo grumbled as he backed his truck out of the parking lot and turned towards Corn Neck Road.

* * *

Heading home, speeding furiously over the limit and quite frankly driving-under-the-influence, Duo was _livid_. He now had _two_ runway teens on his hands! God damn it, what the Hell was going on with Heero? Why did he _always_ have to do things by the book!? If the textbooks said he'd act out after adoption – he did; if the books said he'd give him hell as a teenager – he did! God! For once in his life, couldn't Heero cut him just _a little_ slack? He had enough on his plate as it were!

He tried to call Heero's cell while driving home, but there was no answer. He didn't expect one. Cussing, he threw his phone back onto the passenger seat. God damn it, he thought they were cool! He thought that the little bit tension between them over the whole Relena-coming-over thing was water under the bridge. Was Heero still pissed at him? Was that it? Did he run away because of _her_? Why would he make such a big deal out of it!?

The first thing Duo noticed when he stepped onto the front porch was that Heero's bike was missing. The boy wasn't home, not that he expected him to be there. Just in case, he stomped upstairs to Heero's room, yanked the door open and took a good look around.

Only a bunch of MS models standing on a shelf above the computer work station were there to greet him with stoic plastic eyes, along with Manny the Penguin who sat by the monitor, staring blankly at the door with a pair of black button-eyes. There used to be a time when he had walked into this bedroom and was immediately greeted by a pair of jubilant Prussian-blue eyes and a shy smile as his little boy turned away from his games and rose to welcome him back home with a timid hug.

Where was that sweet little boy he had once carried in his arms? Duo didn't remember growing older... when did Heero grow, and why so fast? It seemed like only yesterday he was a small boy who enjoyed playing catch with him in the back yard... How could seven years fly by so swiftly? Where did time go?

Heero's bed was a mess: blue sheets tangled and blanket thrown to the floor. It's been _years_ since the boy bothered making his bed in the morning and Duo knew he was to blame. He was the one who instructed the boy to stop making his bed in God damned _military-style_ every damn morning when he was just a little kid. Old habits die hard; it took months for the boy to break the habit of making his bed meticulously every morning and it would take a lot more to bring him back in the habit now. That was the least of Duo's worries.

He spotted a school bag on the carpet by the bed. It wasn't Heero's ragged backpack, but a nice clean and elegant bag – it had to be Relena's. He snatched the bag off the floor and tramped out of the room, running down the stairs and out the door. Climbing into his red pickup, Duo threw the bag into the passenger seat and started the engine. He sped down the narrow dirt road leading away from the house.

* * *

His next stop was Heero's school. He arrived a little past twelve noon. The school-yard was filled with children and adolescents during their lunch break. Duo parked his truck at the front of the school, snatched Relena's school bag and stomped towards the large green yard.

He found her sitting on the top of the empty bleachers at the school's sports' ground, overlooking an empty green field. He stopped, taken aback for a moment. The young teenage girl he used to know as the fierce "Queen-of-the-fucking-World", the same girl who had heedlessly followed Heero in a path to change the world, was now an image of simplicity: dressed in a stylish light-purple dress, the flared skirt fluttering with the wind and her long dishwater-blonde hair flapping wildly, she sat casually on the empty bleachers, eating an apple while reading a book.

He watched as she turned a page and tucked a few locks of tousled hair behind her ear, engrossed in her reading. When she finally noticed his approach, she looked up from her book, pinning him down with her sharp turquoise-blue gaze. He stood at the bottom of the bleachers, unable to move. Her eyes... they were just like Heero's: defiant, fierce and challenging. The fire he saw there was more than a mere expression of adolescent impudence. This girl, just like his boy, wasn't the same as other kids her age. He wasn't surprised.

"Uh, hi," he greeted uneasily, raising a hand in a halfhearted wave. He saw how her eyes quickly darted to the school bag he was holding; her backpack. She placed her book down on the bleacher, setting her apple on top of it; the cover read: _"The Reconstruction of the Scandinavian Aristocracy AC 001 – AC 190"._

The girl slowly rose to her feet.

"Hello," she said politely, but didn't step down to greet him. Her hair and dress fluttered wildly with the cold breeze. She stood at the top of the bleachers, looking down at him firmly. Her sharp eyes inspected him closely, from his dirty gray jumpsuit, to the long braid dangling down his back and swinging with the strong wind and finally to the pale and troubled expression on his worry-worn face. She noted how her scrutinizing seemed to make him even more uncomfortable. He looked as guilty as sin and she couldn't fathom why.

"I, uh... I got your bag," the man said, gesturing up with the stylish backpack. "Thought you might need it."

"Is everything alright?" she asked, concerned. She began making her way down to the field. "Heero didn't come to school today either," she remarked quietly and reached a graceful hand forward to accept her school bag. Duo hesitated, staring at her dumbly for a moment.

She was standing right in front of him now. The girl was over a head shorter than him, but her presence was so intense that he barely even noticed. For a second, he felt just like he did when in the presence of the woman he once knew as an ESUN Senator and a rival for Heero's heart. Last he had seen the Relena Darlian _he_ knew, she was a high-stature and sophisticated young woman many would probably call beautiful, but her kind was never really his cup of tea.

It was the AC 206 Annual Christmas Ball to commemorate the end of the war. The party was held in Washington DC that year, and, after ten years of declining her invitations, Heero was finally inclined to go. He had said that ten years of peace was something he was willing to celebrate, even though it meant suffering through a high-society ball for one evening.

She had worn a gorgeous red gown that night, one that hugged her tall and slim frame, drawing attention to her every curve. Her long blonde hair was done up real big beauty-queen-style, expensive jewelry around her neck and dangling from her delicate ears. She was a tantalizing vision of prestige, elegance and splendor; something Duo could never compete with and therefore he never tried. As long as at the end of the day he was the one lying by Heero's side, she could look as enticing as she fucking wanted.

Heero had worn his usual black-tie attire. The plain black suit was a stark contrast to her fancy getup, but it certainly pulled off the "dark and handsome" look that made his lover so terribly alluring, so no one even noticed. Duo remembered standing by the bar, sipping from a wide glass of Jameson, as he watched her dance with his boyfriend, twirling gracefully on the dancefloor... looking like the perfect couple.

He knew that he shouldn't be jealous of her – she was Heero's dear friend and nothing more – but there was always an undertone of envy between them. It wasn't that they were mean to one another, but they both wanted Heero to themselves, which naturally lead to some tension.

Duo was feeling the same tension now, even when facing a girl twenty years younger than himself. This time, the threat was more tangible than ever. Relena had the home-field advantage: she was Heero's age and there was no one to stand in her way... nor should there be, he reminded himself, grimacing internally. His role in this play was that of a parent, not a lover. His lover was dead, but his boy wasn't, and his son deserved love just like any other kid did, so he should just get over himself already!

"Yeah, Heero, uh..." he mumbled after giving the girl her backpack; she accepted it quietly and slung it over her slim shoulder, looking up at him with expectant blue eyes.

"He uh..." Duo tried to think of an excuse, but then decided against it; "Actually, I uh... I was kinda hoping you knew where he was," he explained guiltily, thus admitting to some _really_ bad parenting. Fuck, it hurt to fail in front of her!

The girl regarded him quietly for a moment. She didn't seem to be passing any judgment on him. Admitting to losing Heero didn't cause her to look at him with abhor or anything of the sort. In fact, she looked like she felt sorry for him. And indeed, the young girl was thinking to herself that she found it very hard to see him as the authoritarian bully Heero accused him of being. All she saw when she looked at him now was a young single dad who loved his son dearly and was desperately trying to keep things together. If only her dad had tried so hard... Relena suppressed a sigh.

"No, sorry," she finally spoke up, apologizing as she tucked a few stray locks of blonde hair behind her ear; "I haven't seen him since yesterday."

"He was with you yesterday?" Duo marveled, frowning in confusion. "At school?"

"Uh... not exactly," she gave him a helpless smile. "He uh... well, I just... I gave him a ride home last night," she said, looking at him in apology. "He didn't look very well, and when he didn't show up at school today either I just figured he stayed home sick."

"No, he didn't," Duo frowned, upset; "Any idea where he could be?"

She thought about it for a short moment. "Have you tried the beach?"

Duo looked stumped. "Which one?" he asked.

"Heero's beach," she said as though the answer should have been obvious. When the man continued to look at her dumbly, frowning, she smiled kindly and said:

"Come on, I'll take you there."

* * *

They got into his truck and she instructed him to drive away from town. They drove past the old south-east lighthouse, driving along the island's famous Mohegan Bluffs: a large mass of brown clay cliffs about 150 feet high and only accessible by steep wooden stairs. They drove in tense silence, gazing broodingly out the windshield at the winding ocean road and wild beaches below.

"You know why they call 'em the Mohegan Bluffs?" Duo broke the tense silence with some trivia. The girl turned him, curious.

"No, why?"

He smiled slyly. "There was this great battle between two Indian tribes: the Niantic and the Mohegan," he explained while looking at the road; "They fought over the island and the intruding Mohegan army was finally forced over the cliffs to their death by the native Niantic," he finished with a cynical smirk on his face.

Relena seemed appalled. "That's awful."

He chuckled. "Yeah, kinda is," he agreed, still smiling sarcastically. "Guess that's what happens when da place ain't big 'nough for two parties, huh?"

"_No_..." the girl countered, sighing; "That's what happens when two sides can't reach a compromise. They could have found a way to share the island, or at least its resources. Through commerce, for example. That way both sides would benefit from the riches of the other."

"Yeah, guess they coulda done that," Duo agreed, hiding a knowing smile. "Just like Earth coulda kept supporting the Colonies instead of oppressing them."

"You think that the Mohegan would've oppressed the Niantic?"

"If they invaded the island successfully, sure. Survival of the fittest. It's what those tribes did... It's what humans do."

"Only because they're lead by greedy, egocentric and power-hungry _men_," the girl grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She turned to glare out the window.

Duo laughed. "Gotta agree with you on that one. I bet that shit woulda gone down differently if the Mohegan and Niantic women were in charge. They probably woulda opened a _mall_ or something..."

Relena rolled her eyes. She turned to him, her eyes glaring daggers. "I didn't mean _that_ kind of commerce," she snapped nastily.

"Yeah, I know," Duo turned to her with a smile and she realized he was only trying to yank her chain, assessing her reaction. She frowned. What was he trying to gain by coaxing her into this debate? She couldn't figure him out, but she had a feeling that there was much more to him than met the eye.

"Take a left," she mumbled and turned to gaze out the passenger window, glowering fiercely at the scenery. Was it just her, or had the man just put her through some sort of test?

As they approached the southern side of the island, the tall bluffs became less steep; the dangerous incline just moderate enough to make the climb down by foot. She recognized the familiar glacial hills. Heero's beach was just up ahead. She hoped they would find him there.

The ride became bumpy as Duo turned to a narrow dirt bike trial. The red pickup made its way through coastal shrub and tall green grassland until they reached the ocean.

"We're here," she said and unfastened her seatbelt. Duo did the same and stepped out of the car, leaving the door open. He stood by the truck, looking around through squinting eyes.

It was high noon and the sun was hidden behind a thick layer of gray and white clouds. The ocean rustled loudly in the background and the wind swooshed through tall swaying reed. His heart began to thump. He remembered this place. He remembered finding it after hiking down Rodman's Hollow with the urn containing Heero's ashes in his backpack. He remembered trailing down the Hollow – a big hole in the landscape filled with lush greenery and hiking trials. When he reached the ocean, he found a little way to slip down the dunes to the water, where he had scattered Heero's ashes.

He shuddered inside. Heero's beach... could this be it?

"I don't see his bike anywhere!" Relena called over the howling wind after having a look around. "Usually he just leaves it here by the road."

"Think he might be down there?" Duo asked, skeptic.

"Could be?" she offered uncertainly; it didn't look like she believed they'd find him there.

They made the hike down silently, moving through the tall grass carefully, keeping their gaze down so they would not lose their footing climbing down the steep cliff side. The second Duo had a clear view of the barren beach below, he knew without a doubt it was the same beach he had visited eight years ago... thirteen years from now. There was no mistaking the distinct coloration of the rock-face; red, orange, brown and yellow blending together to form a striking image of dancing flames.

He stopped, gaping wretchedly at the beach. Relena, who was walking a few steps ahead of him, noticed that he had stopped and turned to him, a question in her eyes. She felt her heart sink painfully when she noted the terribly haunted look on the man's face.

"He comes here?" Duo asked shakily.

"Yes," she said, stepping back towards him. "When he needs to get away." She regretted saying those words the moment they left her mouth. The man seemed even more wretched after hearing them.

"And that happens a lot?" he asked miserably. He turned to her, looking guilty. "Is it... is it hard for him?" he asked, his tone pleading for honesty.

She hesitated before giving her answer; she didn't want to overstep her boundaries and say something she shouldn't. Heero would never forgive her.

"Sometimes... sometimes I think it's more than just your typical teenage angst," she admitted carefully, casting her eyes down sadly to stare at her boots. "There's something... something there. A hurt... a burden... something... very sad. I don't know. I never ask..." She turned her head up to look at him, her usually fierce blue eyes shining tenderly. "I think this place helps."

Duo felt tears sting his eyes. A burden, she said. He knew exactly what kind of burden it was, but he too had never dared to ask. What a fool he had been! His boy was carrying this heavy burden all on his own... He shouldn't have to deal with it alone, not this time around. Why didn't he insist more that they talk about Before? His son was not like his lover... he would have talked, eventually. He would have shared, and it would have helped. God, how could he have missed this chance? How could he have disregarded the pain that was eating away at his son all these years? Ignoring it was so convenient... They just carried on with their lives, without ever confronting the horrors head-on.

For a long time, Heero seemed perfectly fine, happy even. But when was the last time he had seen his son smile? He could not recall. Somewhere between childhood and adolescence, the smiles vanished. Heero closed off, put up walls and just... disappeared before his very eyes. From a fairly content and hearty child, he became withdrawn, distant and sometimes downright obnoxious.

Duo wanted so much to believe that it was just typical teenage behavior. That the sweet, obedient child who once couldn't bear to be separated from him, now won't be seen within 20 yards of him and greeted everything he said with a roll of his eyes or the slam of a door. Those were the actions of a normal teenager, right? Why with all the drama going around, it wasn't easy to differentiate between depression and normal teenage moodiness. Making things even more complicated, was Heero's inherently aloof nature.

But the behavior he displayed was textbook symptoms of teen depression. The school had a seminar on the subject about a year ago. The writing has been on the wall; Duo just refused to see it: irritability, hostility and extreme sensitivity to criticism caused by plaguing feelings of worthlessness and guilt... Just like anything else the boy did, he was a textbook depressed teen. Really, he should have seen this coming. Parenting wasn't all about winging it as you go; he should have been more prepared for this.

"God..." Duo let out, moaning miserably as he ran a hand through his long bangs, pushing them away from his eyes. Holding his head, he turned to face the raging ocean below. He closed his eyes, warm tears lingering to his thick lashes.

"Shit, Heero... I'm so sorry..." He whispered, speaking to the waves that had carried his lover's remains into the deep. This is twice that he had failed Heero; twice that he had lost him to the same ocean.

"I don't think it's your fault," Relena spoke softly, approaching him from behind. "He isn't really angry with you," the girl tried to offer some insight. Duo slowly turned to face her, lowering his hand back down. She was looking up at him with this heart-wrenching look on her face; sympathy.

"I think he just needs you to be around more," she said and even though there was not a hint of accusation in her calm quiet voice, Duo winced, feeling like the crappiest dad in the world.

"He said that?" he mumbled shamefully, glancing down at the grass.

"No, but he doesn't have to," the girl replied, staring pensively at the stormy ocean ahead. "I know what it's like... I can tell."

"I'm sorry about your dad," Duo offered an earnest condolence; "I heard 'bout the assassination... that musta been rough."

"It was," she whispered quietly, her eyes tearing up as she continued to watch the stormy gray ocean.

"You must resent the Colonies for his death," he ventured carefully.

"I have nothing against the Colonies," she said firmly. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she spotted the massive OZ battleship sailing in the near horizon. She glared at the battleship with cold hard eyes.

"It wasn't their fault."

Duo already knew that, but he wanted to make sure that she knew it as well. OZ Colonel Lady Une was the one who assassinated the girl's father. OZ made it look like the Colony Rebels were the ones behind the assassination, but apparently, Relena knew better [[2]].

"Either way, it must be tough. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"Thank you," she said and turned to face him once more, tearing her angry eyes away from the battleship.

"No, thank _you_," Duo said, smiling wistfully. He shoved both hands into his jumpsuit pockets, fists clenching tightly.

"I know I haven't been around much lately, and thanks to you, my son doesn't have to be so lonely anymore..." He sighed, turning to look down at Heero's beach.

"It was always very difficult for him to make friends," he reminisced quietly; "It's good to see he's finally found someone he can relate to..." he mumbled desolately while gazing miserably at the beach below.

"It's nice to know that he has a friend," Duo concluded and turned to Relena, smiling sadly. The girl returned the awkward smile.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you find him," she apologized.

"Any idea where else he might be? Where else do you guys hang out?"

"I suppose you could try the library... but I don't think you'll find him there. Have you tried the docks?"

"The ferry? You think he left the island? Where would he go?"

"I don't know..."

"Did he say anything about leaving?"

"No... But he did mention that you never let him off the island. Maybe he..." she allowed her voice to fade, but Duo picked up on her train of thought.

"You think he ran away just to _spite_ me?"

She looked at him guiltily. "I don't know. He was really angry the other night, and then..."

"What?" Duo asked anxiously; "Then what? Is he in trouble?"

Relena hesitated to betray Heero's trust by telling the man about how she had found his son injured last night. Luckily for her, she didn't have to because suddenly, Duo's cellphone beeped. It was a strange, urgent beeping; quite unusual for a ringtone, she mused.

"Shit," he cussed and shoved a hand into his jumpsuit pocket, retrieving a small mobile device. Of course, Relena had no way of knowing, but it was not his usual cellphone; it was a different one. It was a "burner-phone"; a prepaid cellular phone, replaced frequently to avoid leaving a trail. He used the untraceable device to accept 02's orders.

Duo unlocked the device, keeping the screen titled towards him so she won't be able to see. A text message was waiting:

_[02 – Action Required. Confirm Y/N]_

He stared at the small device, looking torn. He hesitated, his finger hovering over the keys. He was so tempted to reject the mission. He didn't have time for it now, he had to find his son. But refusing a mission would make the others even more suspicious of him. Then again, he did have a good excuse; Scythe was so banged up it could barely fly...

Finally, he pressed his answer with a hesitant finger:

_[N]_

It was the first time he had ever refused an order. He was almost shaking. A reply was soon to come:

_[?]_

Duo winced. He typed:

_[Unit inoperable.]_

And his liaison answered:

_[Unit unnecessary. 02 required. Confirm Y/N]_

"Shit," he hissed under his breath. He could feel Relena's sharp eyes on him. "I don't have time for this..." he muttered anxiously.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, stepping closer.

"Yeah, yeah, just work stuff..." he muttered while starting miserably at his phone. He could not afford to refuse this mission. Bigger things were at stake.

His dark-phone beeped as another message came in:

_[02 – Action Required. Confirm Y/N]_

With no other choice, he resigned and typed in:

_[Y]_

An array of coded text appeared on the screen line by line, detailing mission parameters. He skimmed through it briefly, understanding enough of the coded information to realize that he was being called off-island ASAP. It was a search and destroy; they wanted him in and out quietly, without Scythe. Shit. They could be watching him, making sure he was really who he claimed to be. He had to find Duo. He had to find his son! Shit! A mission could not have come at a worse time!

"Damn it," he whispered and walked back to his truck; "I haffta go."

"What?" Relena turned on her heels to face him, astounded. "_Now? _What about Heero?"

"He'll turn up," Duo grumbled as he started the engine. He hated to think how this must seem to her, that he was choosing work over finding his son, but what choice did he have?

"He couldn't have just vanished off the face of the island," he said, turning to her with glowering blue eyes; "If you see him before I do, you can tell him that he's grounded for the rest of his fucking life. Now get in. We gotta go."

* * *

**To be continued...**

* * *

[1] Referencing Duo's words to Hilde in ep. 23 of the anime.

[2] Once again I remind you that I am basing the story on the anime (in the Glory of Losers manga, it was Heero who accidently killed Relena's father.


	16. Act Two - Part 7

**Author's Note:** Finally, I'm done with the _painstaking_ task of completing this long-overdue chapter! I'm sorry it took so long. I hate writing chapters that are mostly there to take the story from point A to B. I promise that the next few chapters will be FAR more thrilling.

Elle

* * *

**This chapter is dedicated to Nicki for letting me pick her brain whenever I'm struggling with this story – thank you! ^_^**

* * *

**Paradox**

**Act Two Part 7**

Heero didn't come to school the next day either and Relena was really worried. That was three days that he's been missing, not counting the evening she found him climbing up from that dangerous strip of beach, injured. Something was going on, but she could not fathom what that might be; Heero didn't strike her as the kind of person who'd get in trouble hanging with the wrong crowds or anything like that. She hoped he was all right.

Before leaving for the airfield the day before, Mr. Maxwell gave her his cellphone number and asked her to call him immediately if she heard or saw Heero. He dropped her off at home and hurried to leave.

Her dad used to be the same; work always came first. Then again, her dad used to be a high-ranking government official, which was something she could understand even if she was angry with him for always being second in his eyes. Heero's dad was just a pilot-for-hire. What could be so important that he would leave the island before making sure his son was safe and sound? It didn't make sense. She could tell how worried he was, so why drop everything and leave?

It was late in the evening. Relena was lying on her bed, showered and dressed in her nightwear: a sweet pink/white striped nightie. Outside her large bay-window, an Atlantic rainstorm raged strongly. Heavy rain pounded against the glass, but inside her bedroom it was nice and warm. She lay over the covers of her posh queen-size bed, surrounded by newspapers, magazines and old books. Some books were open, some closed, and all bore titles such as: _"Scandinavian Genealogy"_,_ "The Collapse of the Unified Kingdom of Denmark"_ or _"Monarchies of Northern Europe"._ Her classy white laptop was laid on a pillow next to her, a search-engine site displayed on the open screen. The current search-results on the screen read:

**Ambassador Lady Une - Kiwipedia, the free encyclopedia**

_Ambassador Lady Une is the Organization of the Zodiac's Permanent Representative to the Colonies. Ambassador Une works to advance OZ interests, promote and defend universal values and address pressing challenges to peace, security, and prosperity. Prior to serving as OZ Permanent Representative to the Colonies, Ambassador Une served as high-ranking military officer in OZ's Special Forces..._

**The Lady Une Doctrine – The New Yorker**

_On_ _May 3, AC 195, the former-Alliance Foreign Relations Committee met to consider the nomination of Col. Lady Une to be Earth's Permanent Representative to the Colonies. She was an unusual choice. Although she had been a decorated OZ officer and served on the OZ Security Council as the senior director for multilateral affairs, she had never been a diplomat. At 20, she would be the youngest-ever Ambassador to Space.__.._

**Lady Une – Khushrenada's Atrocity Enabler - AlterNews**

_In her five months in government, Une has done nothing of substance to prevent the atrocities she claims to condemn. Her most notable accomplishment is in fact the enabling of ruthless perpetrators, primarily through her protection of OZ's "peacekeeping" policies. _Une's high-profile initiatives in space have done little more than generate publicity for herself. Her demand for military interventions has thrown open the floodgates of chaos, transforming the repressed but functional Colonies into a destabilized battleground.

**Ambassador Une - Vanity Fair**

_Lady Une, at 20, is the youngest person to be appointed Earth's Ambassador to the Colonies— arrived at her lunch spot of choice boxed in at the entrance by her wary security team, like some Hollywood star. Still, she proved delightfully approachable, and perhaps her German roots account for her refreshing straightforward approach, fierce articulate intelligence and dark humor. "It's good to get out of the office," she said as if released for a while from the impossible cares of saving the world..._

Relena's dinner remained untouched, laid out on a tray resting on her night table. Above the burning fireplace across the room, a large flat-screen TV was on, displaying the evening news. She lay sprawled casually on her side, browsing through the New York Times while rain tapped loudly against the large bay-window and the news anchorman murmured faintly in the background. She was reading the front-page news:

**Controversial Speech by Guest-of-Honor Ambassador Une at NYU Commencement Ceremony held in Yankee Stadium**

_By MATT MOUAWAD_

_"Life is not a marathon or a journey. It's a hunt. You are now leaving the lion's den and entering the pack of wolves – hunting season has begun. Congratulations, I hope you're hungry."_ [[1]]

Relena's eyes narrowed in contempt as she read the ruthless speech. She was deeply engrossed in her reading, but suddenly a familiar female voice on the TV caught her attention. She turned away from the newspaper, looking up with a deep scowl on her face. She reached for the remote and turned the volume up.

"Today, in the year After Colony 195, the citizens of outer space deserve to live freely," the firm female voice announced haughtily. The images on the screen showed archive news footage from the Colonies; sights of Colony citizens forced to march down the street with their hands held up in surrender while Alliance soldiers and Mobile Suits escorted them at gun-point. The images were appalling, outrageous. Relena glared angrily at the screen. How could mankind reach a point in its development when _space-colonization_ was possible, but it still could not advance forward from tyranny and oppression? It made no sense the images filmed in cities residing in _space_ would be so similar to the old black and white archive footage of Nazi Europe or 21st Century Middle East.

"However," the woman's voice continued speaking over the news footage; this time, the images flashing on the screen were those of MS battles in space. "To this date, the United Earth Sphere Alliance has oppressed the Colonies. Now, finally, the days of the Alliance are over. A new order is being created on Earth and it shall be the same for space. The Colonies are free."

Relena snorted, rolling her eyes. The archive footage ended and the news now displayed the woman behind the voice. She was a tall and fair-skinned brunette in her twenties, dressed in a stylish business skirt-suit. The lovely-looking woman was standing in front of a podium, giving a press conference to a crowd of journalists. She smiled pleasantly at the cameras and Relena's eyes darkened with distaste.

"OZ supports the Colonies," the woman declared sweetly and Relena snarled with contempt. "We are no longer a military organization," she claimed; "We are a peacekeeping organization."

The young girl laughed cynically. "Right!"

"OZ might have been a part of the Alliance at one point," the woman continued; "but we are not the same. It is our hope that the people of the Colonies will come to understand this fact and lay down their arms. Troops of the former-Alliance Military are still scattered throughout the Colonies, opposing OZ and disturbing the peaceful life the people of space so rightfully deserve. The former-Alliance's powers are constantly diminishing. OZ will bring peace to the Colonies soon enough."

"Ambassador Une," one reporter spoke up; "what about the Gundams? We were told that the Colonies have sent mobile suits to Earth to oppose OZ."

"It's true that a number of Mobile Suits were sent to Earth and tried to destroy certain targets," the young woman confirmed, addressing the reporter. "However OZ is currently taking steps to expose the rebels so it can maintain world peace. It's only a matter of time before we can resolve this matter and achieve peace both here and in space. The Gundams should understand that their fight here is a useless one. OZ has already brought freedom to Earth _and _the Colonies. Those pilots are nothing more than a bunch of bothersome rabble-rousers who will be brought to justice before long." [[2]]

Relena felt utterly disgusted. She glared wrathfully at the TV screen while cameras flashed in the lady's porcelain-white face. The OZ Ambassador to the Colonies smiled gracefully at the cameras, thanking the reporters for their time.

"You can change your hair and your clothes, Colonel, but it doesn't change who you are!" Relena hissed darkly and turned off the TV in one quick furious motion towards the remote control. The room fell silent. She threw the remote on the bed and returned to her reading.

She threw the paper aside and reached for a book. Suddenly, she thought she heard a faint scratching noise; it came from the direction of her bedroom window. She turned to look over her shoulder, frowning at the large bay window, and waited. There was nothing out there but pitch black darkness and rain tapping against the glass. She turned back to the book, opening it on a bookmarked page titled _"AC 050 – AC 100 Monarchies"_.

Again that sound: like a tree branch scrapping against the old wooden walls, but there were no trees on this side of the house; only a steep precipice below. Relena let go of her book and sat up, reaching for a cozy soft-pink long robe. She slipped into it while standing up and walked over to the window.

She stood by the wide window-seat, hugging her robe around her chest, and looked outside with a wary frown. The bay window overlooked the ocean and cliffs below; an endless black behind a veil of raindrops smeared across the glass. She stood there a moment, listening, but all she could hear was the rain.

She used to have a similar bay window back home, overlooking a different ocean. She remembered sitting on the window-seat for hours, looking up at the stars. Her favorite book growing up was Peter Pan. Her nanny used to read it to her every night before bed. She used to love gazing out her bay window and into the starry night as she imagined herself as Wendy, waiting for her Peter. Oh what adventures they would have had! She used to daydream about it for hours every night, staring at the heavens, waiting for him. Sometimes she just felt like flinging the window open and shouting at the top of her lungs: _"Peter! Come get me!"_ She was waiting for someone to come and sweep her away from her gray little life full of binding social obligations and dreary High Society etiquette.

She would often picture how the window would blow open and Peter would drop in like a fresh breeze. She would not be alarmed to see a stranger standing in her nursery, only pleasantly surprised. The boy who never grew up would ask for her name and she would proudly give it to him, feeling some satisfaction that the name Darlian and Darling sounded kind of the same. As a small child, she regretted not having as many names as Wendy had in the book, so she made up a few in case Peter came and asked; she wanted to sound as impressive as Wendy and give him a big long title compared to his shortish name. As it turned out, she did have more than enough names to give him, though none of them resembled Wendy's; Darlian wasn't even her name to give.

She had read in her research that her full name was in fact Relena Ingeborg Thyra Feodora Peacecraft. Sadly, she was too grown up now and could no longer dream of giving Peter her new name. Now she was old enough to know that there was no magical land beyond the second star to the right; just massive bodies of metal and black space filled with agony, war and oppression. All children grow up eventually, no exceptions. Some even grow up earlier than others, herself included.

Sighing, Relena was about to turn away from the window, when suddenly she heard the noise again. Her chest fluttered; a silly reaction of the small part of her that wished it hadn't grown up yet. For a second she remembered reading that all girls heard Peter Pan in their sleep, and only the lucky ones heard him while awake... She hurried to vanquish the childish hope flickering in her heart like the breathing of little stars. There was no more room in her heart for childish faith and pixie dust.

She opened the bay window widely and peeked outside into the rainy night. The rustling sound was coming from below. She looked down and stopped short, gasping as her eyes fell on a head of short dark hair a couple of feet below her window. Someone was climbing up the flowery shrubs growing on the side of the house. At the sound of her surprised gasping, the messy head of hair moved, tilting up, and suddenly she was drowning in a sea of deep Prussian blue. The light from her window washed over a familiar pale and wet face peeking from below. A boy was looking up at her with wide blue eyes.

"Heero!" she called, stunned. There was nothing but steep cliffs all the way down to the ocean. Did he make the slippery climb from the beach through darkness and rain? That was suicide!

For a moment, Heero just stared at her dazedly, looking upwards without moving a muscle. The rain drizzled on his pale face. His hair was damp, matted and sandy, his long bangs clinging to his face. He looked terribly distraught.

She leaned out the window as far as she could without losing balance and stretched her hand down towards him. Heero flung one hand up, grabbing hold of her. He reached his other hand to hold onto the window sill and hoisted himself up with a quiet groan. She strained to pull him up, helping him. She stepped away from the window-seat, making him some room, and he dropped on the floor, crouching and panting quietly. He took a moment to catch his breath and stood up.

His dark blue jeans and forest-green pullover hoodie were drenched with rain, torn and soiled with dirt or worse. His wet features were gaunt and pale with sickness. He stared blankly at the room, mouth hanging open as he struggled to breathe. Relena studied him worriedly.

"Heero, where have you been?" she asked shakily; "Your father has been looking all over for you. He's worried sick."

His eyes darted towards her sharply; hard and accusing. She felt herself falter under his fierce gaze. Perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned his father. He wouldn't have come to her if he wanted to be with his dad. No; Heero obviously needed someone to take care of him right now, and his father was nowhere around, as always.

The boy coughed, raising a fist-clenched hand to cover his mouth. He was shivering from the cold. Relena hurried towards her night table, where her untouched dinner was still waiting. She picked up a pitcher of water and poured him a drink. He accepted it wordlessly and gulped it down hungrily. She watched him anxiously, waiting for an explanation, but the boy seemed too upset to speak. It was like he was functioning on an animalistic instinctual level, answering basic needs before anything else. She poured him another glass of water and handed him a piece of bread. He ate it hurriedly.

Relena walked over to a beautifully crafted white French dresser, opened a drawer and pulled out a clean white towel and a matching bathrobe. She handed them to him and quietly guided him towards the ensuite bathroom by resting a hand against his wet back, nudging him forward gently. He stopped at the doorway, hesitating for a moment, no doubt recalling the last time he had found himself in this position. This time, however, he decided to accept her offer. He took the luxurious bath textiles, stepped inside and locked the door behind him.

Relena remained by the closed door until she heard the water running. She then turned to a white writing-desk, where her white clamshell cellphone was resting. She picked it up and flipped it open, her finger already skimming through the contact list to find Mr. Maxwell's number. She paused, chewing nervously on her bottom lip as she stared at the number. Heero's dad asked her to call him the minute she heard from or saw Heero. It would be the right thing to do. Then again, Heero obviously didn't want his dad to know where he was; that was why he came to her. But the young father was truly worried for his son. It wouldn't be right to ignore his request.

She dialed, but the call went straight to voicemail. Relena frowned at her phone. Why would he keep his cellphone closed at a time like this? She would have imagined that he would be waiting anxiously for her call, answering on the first ring. She sighed, shaking her head. This wasn't right. Busy or not, the man should care enough to leave his phone open, or didn't he care enough for his son?

She texted him a short message:_ 'Heero is with me'. _She briefly considered adding _'he's fine'_, but then decided against it. Heero seemed anything but fine, and besides – let the man worry. He _should_ be worried. He should be available by phone!

Snapping her clamshell phone shut angrily, she placed it back on the desk. The bathroom door opened and Heero stepped out along with a thick cloud of steam. He was wearing the white bathrobe, his messy hair dripping. He seemed a bit better; some color has returned to his cheeks.

She noted that his lips were slightly agape; he was breathing heavily through his mouth because his nose was congested. He sniffled quietly, turning to her with this eerie shell-shocked expression on his face. She offered a soft, awkward, smile.

"Feeling a bit better?"

He nodded.

"You should lie down for a while," she offered and followed his eyes as his gaze traveled slowly towards her bed. He didn't move. Sensing that he needed a little space instead of being mothered, she entered the bathroom to fetch his wet and dirty clothes. She found them discarded in a pile on the floor. Picking them up, she tried not to think that about how she was holding his underwear in her hand (fearing a blush might creep to her cheeks) and stepped out of the bathroom.

Heero was sitting on the edge of her bed, clad in the white bathrobe and holding one of the books she's been reading. He didn't look up when she stepped back into the room; he was browsing through the books, reading the titles on the covers with a curious frown on his pale face. She let him be and walked out of the room, heading downstairs.

The house was empty at this late hour. Martha, her governess, has already retired to her room and the Help must have finished their work for the day.

In the laundry room, Relena threw Heero's dirty clothes to the washing machine and set it on a quick tumble &amp; dry cycle. In the kitchen, she prepared a sandwich and grabbed a small bottle of water. In the main family bathroom, she opened the medicine cabinet and took a box of cold medicine along with an unopened bottle of nasal spray. Carrying her small bounty on a tray, she returned to her room, but alas, Heero has already fallen asleep. The boy was half-lying/half-sitting on the edge of her bed, a book in his limp hand, which rested on his lap. He was tilted to the side, lying against a fluffed pillow, while his bare legs still dangled to the floor. Exhausted, he must have fallen asleep while reading.

She studied his sleeping face. There were prominent dark smudges under his eyes. His lips were badly chapped and his mouth hung open in sleep, his breath heavy due to his cold. Seeing him like this reminded her that even though they felt so grown-up, they were only kids. Fifteen was still young, she mused; too young to think yourself an adult, but then what else could they do? The adults in their life just didn't get it; it was like they were inherently incapable of stepping up to do the right thing.

She placed the tray on the night table next to Heero (her own food tray was on the other nightstand). Moving carefully, she gently raised his legs from the floor and placed them on the bed. Her eyes were drawn to the dark-red welts around his well-toned ankles. There were similar welts around his wrists, she noted as she gently pried the book away from his limp grasp. She had seen the wounds around his wrists before, the night she found him climbing up from the flooded beach. Back then he had mumbled an excuse about falling, but no fall could account to the raw flesh around his wrists _and_ his ankles. He had been restrained, quite forcefully it seemed. What in God's name happened to him?

Circling the bed, Relena collected her books and placed them on her desk. Since Heero had fallen asleep over the covers, she could not tuck him under the blanket without waking him. Instead she lifted the blanket's edge on the empty side of the bed, and folded the winter comforter around him like a taco. She stood there for a moment, gaping at his covered backside.

There was a naked boy in her bed. Strangely enough, the notion didn't bother or excite her. Maybe she didn't think of Heero that way; maybe she didn't think of _anyone_ that way. Was it so bad that at fifteen boys didn't interest her yet? Right now, she was too preoccupied to really think about such silly teenage nonsense. Unlike other girls her age, her life was about more than just buying makeup, dating boys and dreaming about being asked to the prom. Heero was her friend, nothing more, and she was thankful for that.

Ever since grade school, she has been forced into the role of the compulsorily_ popular girl_. Kids hung out with her solely for the sake of being around _"The Vice-Minister's Child"_, and mainly because their parents told them to. She has had many _"friends"_ in her life, but she felt that Heero was the first real friend she ever had. There was something very genuine about their relationship, a deep connection of sorts. Albeit they refused to share much about themselves, there was still something very intimate about what they had; a kind of understanding not many people were capable of sharing. They were both ruled by the same dark, sinking and relentless pain... an ache originating from their very soul.

Tearing her gaze away from the sleeping boy in her bed, Relena decided to turn in for the night. She settled in on the large day-bed under the bay window after setting aside a few of the pillows and grabbing a blanket from her dresser. As she moved a couple of cushions away, making herself enough room to lie on, she found a magazine tucked behind the window-seat cushions: **_Hamptons_**

It was a local lifestyle magazine for the rich and famous living in the Hamptons; a long lost reminder of the kind of reading material she used to busy herself with before she decided to learn all she could about her heritage – and her enemies. She picked it up, frowning in dismay as she studied the grinning pretty rich girl on the cover standing next to her handsome spouse. She couldn't believe she used to read this shit for fun!

She was about to toss the magazine away, but then her eyes caught the title under the smiling couple:

**_"Princess of the Hamptons" Astrid Von Pfeil Weiridge &amp; fiancé Ulrich Eleguth Und Klein_**

_**Take a sneak-peak at the upcoming wedding of the season as the Marchioness finally ties the knot with longtime sweetheart and local NYC businessman.**_

_P. 24_

_BY ELEANORA WENTWORTH_

Relena frowned. Something about the bride's name was familiar. Setting the magazine down, she walked over to her desk and picked up one of the books she had collected from her bed; it was a thick book titled "Scandinavian Genealogy". She leafed through the pages hurriedly, going straight to the index at the end of the book. She traced her finger along the many columns until she found the name "Weiridge"... page 319. She turned to said page and skimmed through it with anxious blue eyes until she stumbled onto the name:

_"Marquis Valdemar Henri Alain Weiridge of Wisborg was the fifth and youngest child, and the fourth and youngest son, of King Gustafof XXII Adolf of Denmark and Princess..."_ She skipped ahead a few sentences.

_"The title Marquis of Wisborg has been granted by the monarchs of Luxembourg to some former princes of Denmark and their descendants. Since 2239 AD, the title has been borne by the male-line descendants of three princes of Denmark who married morganatically without the consent of the King of Denmark and thereby lost their Danish royal titles..."_ Relena skipped the explanation about the loss of status and the right to the throne.

_"The three former princes of Denmark assumed the surname of Weiridge and were given the title Marquis of Wisborg by the reigning Grand Duke or Grand Duchess of Luxembourg. Members of the House of Weiridge are considered part of the unintroduced nobility. To achieve permanent noble status, in 2392 AD Marquis Frederik Franz Knud Oluf Gustav Erik Weiridge married his grandson to the Crown Princess of Sanc, Britt Davidsen Scherfig Peacecraft, grandmother of the current sovereign – King Frederik XVII Carl Georg Valdemar Axel Peacecraft"_— Her biological father. Relena's heart fluttered, racing. Finally, a lead!

On the bed, Heero moaned quietly and turned, coughing weakly. Relena looked up, observing him for a tense moment, and when she was certain that he hadn't roused from his exhausted sleep, she turned back to the book, frowning.

According to the preface, the book was published in AC 166, when Frederik XVII Peacecraft was still king and Sanc was still a small kingdom in the Scandinavian region. This meant that Marchioness Weiridge was a distant relative of sorts – a first _real_ connection to her past!

She walked back to the daybed under the window, moving quietly as to not to disturb Heero's sleep. She grabbed the magazine again and opened it on page 24, which featured the story about the marchioness' wedding. All of today's who's who will be there: from celebrities to politicians, royalty and upstanding businessmen. Her turquoise-blue eyes scanned the article quickly, skipping useless details about the gourmet catering, the prestigious orchestra arriving from Vienna, the exotic flower arrangements and glorious center-pieces, until she found what she was looking for: a date. The wedding reception will be held in the Hamptons on October 22nd – tomorrow night!

Relena's heart thumped strongly in her chest. Holding the open magazine in her hands, she turned to look out the window, gazing anxiously at the rainy night. She had to be there; answers could be waiting.

* * *

She hadn't spelt a wink, tossing and turning on the narrow daybed. When dawn finally broke outside the large bay window, Relena flung her blanket aside and got out of bed, leaving the room quietly. Heero was still asleep, snoring quietly.

She stopped by the kitchen first to get a drink of water and then went to fetch Heero's clothes from the laundry room. She folded his blue jeans neatly, then the forest-green hoodie, and finally his underwear. She didn't feel weird about holding them anymore (for God's sake, she had bigger issues to deal with now!). She placed them on top of the neat pile she had folded and left the laundry room to make some tea.

When she returned to her room, Heero was awake. He was sitting in her bed, leaning over the headboard, tucked under the covers and dressed in the white bathrobe she had given him. He was holding the remote in his hand, watching the television screen hanging on the opposite wall while flipping channels absentmindedly. Relena noted that the boxes of cold medicine and nasal spray she had left on the nightstand were open; he must have used them.

She entered the room quietly, holding a tray with two steaming cups of tea and Heero's folded clothes. He didn't turn to face her, keeping his eyes on the TV. He seemed deep in thought, his eyes seeing straight past the television screen even while he zapped through the channels. Allowing him his peace, she served him his tea quietly and then settled carefully on the other side of the bed, over the covers, with her own cup of tea.

The two teenagers watched TV in silence, sipping tea. "Good Morning America" was playing, the hosts babbling about nonsense and smiling carelessly like nothing was wrong with the world.

"What if you had a brother?" Heero suddenly asked, his voice quiet, pensive; he was still staring numbly at the television screen. Relena frowned, surprised by the strange question. Out of all the things he could have been thinking about, this would have been her last guess. He has been missing for three days and the first real thing he says to her is what if she had a _brother?_

"Why?" she asked carefully.

"That entry we saw in the Alliance database," he explained quietly, lowering his eyes to the blanket. His finger circled the cup of tea uneasily. "It said you're the second heiress to the throne," he paused, turning to face her. "What if... That means you probably have a sibling, right?" There something desperate and painful in his dark blue eyes. For a second, all she could do was stare dumbly into his eyes, her heart feeling heavy.

"Yes," she finally confirmed, speaking slowly, cautiously; "I do have an older brother: Prince Millardo Vincent Frederik Minik Alexander Peacecraft..." she sighed, casting her gaze down to the bed, a dark shadow in her turquoise-blue eyes; "He's also believed to be dead."

"But he could still be alive... in hiding," Heero pointed out. It sounded like he really needed her to agree.

"I suppose," she said, frowning.

"So what if... What if you have a brother?" he repeated the question, looking at her intensely. "What if he just popped out of nowhere one day?"

"I don't know," she replied pensively; "I never thought about it. I don't see how that could happen. I only found out about who I really am because my dad was dying... Even if he's out there, hidden like I am, chances are that he doesn't know."

Heero nodded vaguely. He bowed his head, staring numbly at the mug cupped in his hands. His eyes were distant, pained.

"My dad, he... he just showed up one day," he whispered dimly. "He just showed up and took me in..." Heero mumbled dolefully. "I was always so grateful for him that I never... I never asked." He turned to face her, a wretched expression on his handsome boyish face.

"Why would he just show up?" he asked almost desperately. "Why did he take me in? Where did he come from?" He sighed, bowing his head down sadly. "I never asked."

"Heero..." she whispered softly, reaching a hand towards him across the covers. She examined his distressed expression with sympathetic eyes, feeling his pain. "What happened?"

He shrugged, keeping his eyes downcast, avoiding eye contact.

"I... I think, I... I might have met someone," he murmured quietly, uncertain.

"Who?"

She watched, concerned, as Heero's blue eyes flooded with distraught tears. They gleamed distressfully in his eyes, refusing to be shed.

"I think maybe... I think maybe Duo has a... a son," he whispered in a faltering voice. "A real one... One he never told me about." He turned to her, his eyes wild, troubled. "That would make him my brother... sort of... right?"

"A brother?" she echoed, doubtful. "Heero, are you sure? Where is all this coming from?"

"I met him... I think. At the beach." He mumbled while staring down at his fingers.

"You think?" she questioned softly; "You're not sure?"

"I was pretty out of it..." he let out with another weary sigh, running a hand through his messy bangs, disconcerted; "But I know it wasn't a dream... it couldn't be. I've met him before... I think. It had to be him..."

Relena studied him quietly, concerned. He wasn't making much sense.

"You've met who before?" she asked, confused. He didn't answer, too preoccupied with the questions haunting his mind.

"What if Duo has this whole other life... this whole other family... when he's off-island?" Heero asked, looking at her miserably; "What if he has a _real_ son?"

"Heero, I don't think—"

"But what if he does!" he insisted; his Prussian blue eyes in turmoil. "What if he's away so much because he's with this other family... or... I... I don't know. Do you think it could be possible?"

"That you father is living a double life? No, I don't."

"Why not?" Heero argued; "He could have had this whole other life before me... a whole other life to begin with... I... I don't know anything about him. I don't know where he came from... what he did before me... I don't know him. He's my dad and I... I don't even know who he is. What if he's someone else's dad? What if that someone else is here to take him back?"

"Heero, I think you might be jumping to conclusions," she offered carefully; "Why won't you start by telling me exactly what happened?"

"It's a long story..." he sighed, shaking his head; "I have to find him before he disappears again," he stated, raising the blanket aside to get out of bed; "I think he's the one they're looking for... He's one of them."

"Them?" She echoed dumbly.

Heero sprang out of bed and grabbed his clothes. "Yes – them!" he exclaimed, frustrated; "The... the pilots. The Gundam pilots. He's one of them!"

"Gundam pilots?" Relena let out worriedly and got up as well. "Heero... I think maybe you're a little confused... You're very upset. Clearly, you are not thinking straight."

"They know about him," Heero insisted; "and they know about you."

"Who does?"

"OZ."

"OZ?"

"Yeah. I... I don't think it's safe here, for either of us. We have to leave."

"Leave the island?"

"Yes."

"Because your alleged _long lost brother_ happens to be Gundam pilot?" She asked doubtfully.

"This isn't funny!"

"No, it's ridicules. Are you listening to yourself? This is absurd!"

"Just forget it," he grunted, obviously insulted. He turned towards the bathroom, carrying his clothes.

"Heero, wait," Relena called after him, wincing at her own desperate cry. He stopped, back tensing, and slowly turned to face her again. He waited to hear what she had to say, his dark blue eyes stormy and brooding.

"You're right," Relena said quietly, taking a step towards him, circling the bed. "We should get out of here."

He frowned warily at her sudden compliance.

"Then you agree?" he asked carefully, surprised.

"Yes," she nodded, holding back a smirk. "And I know just the place to go," she said as she finished approaching him, placing a gentle hand on the pile of folded clothes he was holding. She smiled at him, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"I don't suppose you own a suit?"

"A suit?" Heero blinked, confused. Suddenly, he thought about the blond OZ colonel asking him about his alleged mobile suit. "What kind of suit?"

"I would imagine you must own something other than jeans and hoodies?" she snarled tauntingly and he smirked cynically, playing along.

"Well, I wear bike-shorts and a tank-tops in summer..."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "As much as I would _love_ to see you in spandex, I was asking you about a _suit_. Black tie, formal. Do you have one or not?" She demanded, planting her hands on her hips.

Heero studied her quietly for a second, confused by her sudden seriousness. "My dad got me one for this funeral last year," he said slowly, trying to somehow figure out her motives; "I don't know if it fits. Why would I need a suit?"

Relena smiled artfully as she said: "Because you just agreed to be my plus-one at a wedding."

**To be continued...**

* * *

[1] Cited from a graduation speech given by actor Kevin Spacey as character Frank Underwood from "House of Cards" at a small liberal arts college in 2014. See here.

[2] Based on Lady Une's message to the Colonies from episode 17 of the anime and her news interview in episode 11.


	17. Act Two - Part 8

**Paradox**

**Act Two**

**Part 8**

Relena and he agreed to meet by the Old Thomson's house at five in the afternoon. Relena had her driver take him home so they could both get ready. She didn't tell him much about why she wanted to go to that wedding, only that she had to be there; she said she was hoping to find some answers. He didn't ask for further explanations; he knew he would have done the same if he had a chance to get some solid answers to some very burning questions.

His dad wasn't home, as expected. Relena told him that Duo was called off-island on some urgent job. Typical. The man was never around, and maybe that was for the best. His father will only get in the way. If Duo was hiding something as big as having a real son, lying to him by omission for all these years, it was better that he'd keep away from the man while he tried to find out the truth on his own. That was the only way Heero was ever going to believe it.

It was raining and a puddle of water had formed in the middle of the hallway leading to his room, because the damn roof was still leaking. Heero stopped to glare at the puddle and then raised his head to scowl at the wet and dripping stain on the ceiling. Fucking dump. He fucking hated this shitty place. He hated his shitty little life; hated living in the fucking dark all the time... hated living a _fucking_ LIE!

He found his only formal suit stuffed in the far back of his messy closet, meshed into a wrinkled ball of black fabric. He never got around to arranging his wardrobe (couldn't be bothered, really), and never switched his summer clothes with winter attire, so the shelves were packed with a messy jumble of assorted clothing – summer and winter alike – all meshed together in colorful piles of textiles: a typical teenager's closet.

Unfolding the suit, Heero stared at the wrinkled mess in dismay. He had to iron the damn thing. Fuck dammit. He was sick of being a fucking housewife.

He also needed a tie; Relena made it very clear that he should _"look presentable"_. Apparently, there will be a lot of fancy dicks where they were going, so they had to look the part. He didn't own a fucking tie, but his dad probably did.

Heero felt awkward stepping into his father's bedroom. The door was closed, but not locked (he would have kicked the fucking thing down if it was locked! That would have been insulting!). As he opened it slowly, he realized that he hadn't stepped foot in this room since he was about twelve or so, unless he was cleaning the house (but that didn't count, because he was in and out of there in no time, too task-oriented to think about where he was).

As a kid, he used to come freely into this room all the time. He would come running in the middle of the night when nightmares became too much, or tip-toe in quietly first thing Saturday morning to spook his dad awake, but his dad was always one step ahead of him, already awake and feigning sleep, and the moment he stepped next to the bed Duo would launch up with a startling roar and grab him, fling him onto the bed and tickle the hell out of him until he had no more air in his lungs from laughing so hard.

Yes, back then, Duo's door was never closed. His dad was always there for him, day or night. He used to spend so much time in this room when he was little. They spent their Sunday mornings in Duo's double bed, watching cartoons and lounging about until noon. Some evenings, when his dad was beat from work and wished to retire to bed early, they'd have pizza in bed, talking about all kind of stuff and goofing around, wrestling, tickling and having a good time. So much laughter used to fill this room, so much comfort. Whenever he fell ill as a child, he would stay in his dad's bed all day, sleeping or watching TV while Duo was at work. He felt safer there when left home alone. His father's bedroom used to feel like the safest place on Earth. It was his shelter, until one day it stopped being one and the sanctuary closed its doors to him.

At some point they both apparently decided that it was no longer appropriate to spend so much time together in Duo's bed. The doors closed, in both his father's and his own bedroom. Walls were put up and clear boundaries were established. It was all part of growing up, he supposed, which was why Heero felt his heart thump uneasily as he stepped carefully into Duo's bedroom. He stopped an inch from the doorway, hesitating. He knew that Duo trusted him never to enter his room uninvited (again, unless he was cleaning). He was invading his father's only personal space, which meant that whatever secrets the man was keeping from him must lie here, in this room. That made him even more anxious.

It was a small and modest country-style master bedroom, with just enough room for a double bed, a dresser with a TV set on top, a small computer station and two doors leading to an ensuite bathroom and a tiny walk-in closet. The large French window behind the bed overlooked a wide green meadow spreading behind their large back yard. The ocean waters tinted the horizon with bluish-gray hues; the house was pretty close to the island's west coast.

Heero stood at the doorway for a moment, taking in the familiar scents of his father's bedroom; a combination of clean linens, masculine deodorant spray and a touch of dust. He noted with a sinking feeling that a bottle of Jameson whisky was resting on the nightstand by the bed, the green glass shining under the soft morning light pouring from the window behind it. The bottle was nearly empty. Fuck. Was his father drinking himself to sleep each night? What the hell was going on with his dad? Was he becoming a fuck _drunk_?

Heero walked into the room, his stride suddenly confident –_ angry_. He walked swiftly across the hardwood floor and onto the carpet, crossing the room and heading straight towards the walk-in closet. He wasn't snooping, he told himself; he was just looking for a tie. If he happened to accidently come across anything else... well, that couldn't be helped, now could it?

The small space that served as a sorry-excuse-for-a-walk-in-closet was surrounded by wall-to-wall shelves and drawers. The shelves where filled with typical country-style male clothing and a bunch of gray work-jumpsuits. A rugged black leather jacket was suspended from a hanger on the clothing rack, along with a single black suit complete with a white dress shirt and tie.

Bingo.

His father's friend Chuck died of cancer about a year back, which was when Duo got them both black suits to wear to the funeral. Heero didn't think he saw his dad wear the damn thing since, maybe just that one time when he took this fancy lady out on a date to the mainland after being set-up by his pals. His father wasn't the "formal-wear" type and quite frankly, neither was he.

Sighing, Heero reached for the black tie and slipped it off the hanger. He was about to turn around and leave, when suddenly it occurred to him that he didn't have any shoes to match the suit. He only owned a pair of sneakers and soccer-shoes. The black dress shoes his father got him for the funeral a year ago were now a size too small (heck, he was pretty sure the suit won't fit either). As a boy pushing sixteen, he was a seven and a half by now; hopefully, his dad's shoes weren't much bigger.

There was a row of filthy work boots and old sneakers resting on the floor under the clothes rack. No dress shoes. Heero figured they must be in a box somewhere. He searched the shelf above the hanger and indeed, he found two boxes of shoes. Rising on his tip toes, he reached for the first one and frowned when he picked it up. It was quite heavy; too heavy for just a pair of shoes. Curious, he drew it carefully off the shelf; something bulky shifted and thumped inside as he moved the box. He settled on the floor, and opened it.

An irresistible smile touched his lips when he saw the first item inside, lying on top of a pile of things. It was a white A4 notepad paper with a simple empty blue circle drawn on it. This was the first thing he ever drew for Duo; an extremely unimaginative and schematic representation of Earth. Could this be a box of memorabilia his father has collected over the years?

Smiling wistfully, Heero reached for the drawing and lifted it carefully out of the box. He studied the banal drawing with a heartfelt shine in his blue eyes, his chest filling with this gooey warm feeling. He had no idea his father was so sentimental...

He flipped the page over, not really knowing why but just doing it, and froze, surprised. There was something written on the other side of the page; it was filled with Duo's scribbly handwriting. Heero frowned, curious and somewhat... hurt? Why would Duo scribble all over his drawing?!

He glanced at the box again and saw that there were many more papers in the pile, some definitely from the same notepad as the drawing, and some clearly from a different notepad, because they were yellow. They were all filled with Duo's messy handwriting. He turned back to the first page, the one behind the drawing of the empty blue circle, and began reading. The page was filled with dates and short summaries of events, much like his own history notes from school, only these notes were far more disturbing than a whitewashed version of history:

_April 8, AC 191: Terrorists steal prototype Aries mobile suits from the Alliance's JAP point base. General Catalonia, commander of the Specials (and leader of the secret society OZ), dispatches Treize Khushrenada (age 19) and Zechs Merquise (age 15) to quash the rebellion._

Heero stopped reading and gaped at the page, stunned. This couldn't be right. If Duo wrote this back then, in AC 188, how could he have written about something that happened in _AC 191?_ Or maybe he wrote it later, just on the same papers from AC 188? Why write on the drawing if he wrote this much later? And how the hell did he know about that OZ Colonel Merquise and what happened on Earth at the time?

His heart racing with a sense of dread and forbiddance, Heero continued reading the second paragraph:

_Around the same time, a terrorist renegade captures eleven-year-old Relena Darlian, daughter of the Alliance's Vice Minister for Foreign Affairs, and holds her hostage. The girl is rescued by Zechs Merquise, never knowing that he is in fact her brother. The incident is swept under the rug and never reaches the media._

Heero's stomach roiled anxiously. _Relena?_ She was also in these notes? She was _captured by terrorists_ when she was only _eleven_? Fuck, but that explained a lot. It wasn't just her father's death the haunted her; she had a past no less violent and frightening than his own. And Duo knew about all of that? And the Colonel... that asshole was Relena's brother, the Peacecraft prince? _What?!_ How could Duo possibly know all that?! What the hell? Was... was Duo some kind of... _spy_? Were these notes some kind of a report? To whom? Why? And... _how?_

He grabbed a bunch of other notes from the box, anxious to read them all, but then he stopped, gasping quietly. Holding the papers clutched in his fist, he stared wide eyed at what he had uncovered in the box: a gun. That was the heavy thing he felt shift inside the box when he picked it up. Duo had a gun. Usually, that wouldn't have startled him. Many people had guns. But his dad had a handgun hidden under strange mysterious notes in a shoebox lying inside his closet... and not just any gun; this was a P556 MK45 semi-automatic Blackwater Tactical SIG Sauer featuring a Surefire X500 Ultra weapon light mounted on the Picatinny rail, as well as SIGLITE Night Sights, front _and _rear. Holy shit; that was one serious motherfucker. This was the kind of gun used by someone in Special Forces or something like that. He had handled guns before – quite a few, sadly – but nothing like this. This was the fucking _Holy Grail_ of modern service firearms, and it was right here, in his father closet, along with a few 20-round 9mm magazines. This gun wasn't just for show, it was meant and ready to be _used_.

Fuck. How did his dad get his hands on such a gun?

He turned back to the notepad papers clutched in his hand, hoping to find some answers there. He leafed through them hastily, his hands shaking while he read:

_March 22, AC 192: Good ol' Howard and Professor G, both members of the salvage organization known as the "Sweeper Group", complete construction of the space ship "Peacemillion" and hide it on the lunar surface. Howard then goes to Earth to work aboard a salvage ship, while Professor G and his Sweeper cohorts remain in space to prepare for Operation Meteor and happen to stumble upon yours truly._

_'Yours truly?'_ Did Duo mean himself? What the..?

_May 5, AC 193: Fucking a-hole Treize Khushrenada becomes leader of the secret society OZ, and commander of the Specials. He's basically Romefeller's dog at that point._

_June 12, AC 194: The Alliance condemns the aging colony A-0206 and plans to destroy it. Rather than attempting to resettle its inhabitants, General Septem orders that they be wipe it out with biological weapons. The Specials' attack is stopped, and the Alliance's biological weapons are destroyed. Alliance officer Sally Po reports that the mission was successful, ensuring that A-0206 will be left alone in future (until November AC 195 when fucking OZ blows it up!)._

_NOTE TO SELF: DON'T LET THAT HAPPEN! WARN 05!_

_November?_ That was next month. Why... why would Duo write about something that's supposed to happen in a month? Did he know about OZ's plans to blow that colony? How would he? Was he planning to stop them, or was he part of the plan?

Confused, Heero kept reading. It seemed that the biggest amount of notes, and the most detailed ones, were about the year AC 195. They were about the war:

_April 7, AC 195: "Operation Meteor" commences. The Colonies send five Gundams to Earth:_

_\- XXXG-01W Wing Gundam. OZ designation: 01 _

_\- XXXG-01D Gundam Deathscythe. OZ designation: 02_

_\- XXXG-01H Gundam Heavyarms. OZ designation: 03_

_\- XXXG-01SR Gundam Sandrock. OZ designation: 04_

_\- XXXG-01S Shenlong Gundam. OZ designation: 05_

_April __1__0, AC 195: Relena accompanies her father, the Vice Minister, to the Colonies where he is expected at an important meeting. Since OZ and the Romefeller Foundation were gaining power and pushing for a more militaristic approach towards the Colonies, Darlian became a threat to them. Thus, Lady Une, a high ranking OZ officer is ordered to assassinate the Vice-Foreign Minister. She sets a bomb to go off in the middle of the conference, killing everyone else but mortally injuring the Minister._

_Members of the Colony Liberation Organization rescue the Minister and his daughter. Before Vice Foreign Minister Darlian dies, he reveals Relena's true identity as the daughter of the late King Peacecraft. He urges her to continue the ideal of total pacifism and be wary of OZ. Relena also learns about the extent of Gundams' mission on Earth from the CLO._

For a moment, all Heero could do was stare numbly at the page. He was right about there being so much more to his friend than what met the eye. Relena knew about the Gundams. She also knew OZ was behind her father's assassination. That was why that masked Colonel was keeping an eye on her. OZ were after her life as well because she knew the truth. Her big brother was watching over her, wasn't he?

With a heavy feeling in his chest, he continued reading:

_May 19, AC 195: The Gundams attack an Alliance meeting at the New Edwards base. The Alliance's military leaders, who decided that very day to begin disarmament and make peace with the Colonies, are killed because 01 is tricked to take their plane down (not his fucking fault!). OZ then discards its Specials to cover the whole thing and launches "Operation Daybreak", overwhelming the Alliance's terrestrial forces and seizing control of Earth. On the bright side, Lady Une kills renowned war-criminal-wannabe General Septem, so it wasn't such a bad day after all..._

_June 5, AC 195: OZ plans to transport the new Taurus mobile suits to their base in Siberia. However, Lady Une sets a trap there to lure and destroy the Gundams. 02 and 04 arrive to attack the base's ground transportation route (which turns out to be a decoy), while 01 and 03 attack the base's aerial route. During the battle, fucking prince-charming Zechs Merquise uses the Tallgeese to duel 01 (arrogant prick!)._

_However, Une interrupts this pointless display of machoism when she threatens to destroy the Colonies using the missiles of the Space Fortress Barge, unless the Gundam pilots surrender. Doctor J responds and agrees to surrender, but refuses to hand over the Gundams. In response to this, 01 self-detonates the Wing Gundam. The remaining Gundams retreat._

**_Heero, you God damned asshole!_**

Again he stopped, gawking dumbly at the page. It looked like his dad couldn't help but insert a few _"personal insights"_ on the intelligence reports he appeared to have written, which was pretty typical of his idiot dad, but that last commentary remark was just too much. It made his heart jump and his breath hitch in his throat.

_'Heero, you God damned asshole!'_

For a moment it felt as if his dad knew he might read this one day so he was rebuking him, but he knew that couldn't be the case. He was never supposed to see these notes. This was a different Heero his dad was referring to; it must be that dead pilot, the one the OZ Colonel (Relena's brother!) showed him. This was about that boy who died in Siberia... and was also named Heero. That was pilot 01!

Was he... was he the friend his dad claimed to have named him after? Was he named after a damn _Gundam pilot_?! No wait, that couldn't be it. That pilot was a boy his age... His dad couldn't have known him seven years ago... could he? Could he have known him as a child? But even if he did, he wasn't dead then... he was dead_ now_. It didn't make any sense!

Heero's mind reeled; his head was swimming. He felt hot, dizzy and sick to his stomach. He slumped against the closet wall, the papers clenched in his fist, and lowered his eyes back to the box. He stared at the gun numbly.

None of this made any sense, no matter how he tried to connect the dots. Was his father working for OZ? Spying? Or was he on the Colonies' side? Could it be that he was right and Duo was indeed living a double life? Is this what he did when he left the island? Was he gathering intelligence for one of these factions? Is that why they came to Earth? Is that why Duo took him in, a Colony orphan, so it would look like he was just an innocent Joe raising his kid on Earth while he spied for the Colonies?

Shit. His dad was working for the Colony militia, wasn't he? _That's _why OZ are snooping around! _That's_ why that bastard Colonel drugged him and questioned him! They were after his dad!

And what about that boy on the beach? The one who looked like his dad... the Gundam pilot. They must be related. Maybe Duo left a family behind on the Colonies. Maybe his _real_ son followed in his footsteps and joined the militia. Maybe he even did it to go after his dad. Maybe his hidden agenda was to take back his father? That is, the boy must really love his father if he even grew the same silly braid as him... right? Is that it? Was the boy here to take Duo back to space?

Heero's heart stiffened, hardening into cold solid stone. He felt paralyzed by undeniable fear. Was Duo going to leave him?

He raised his hand up shakily and turned to the papers again:

_Important note: O' chivalrous Terize didn't like Une's stunt when she threatened to destroy the Colonies. Devastated by her beloved Treize's criticism, Une's mind fractures into two versions of herself that operate in ignorance of one another:_

_There's Bitchy-Une, which is her dominant militant personality. She's cold, arrogant, shrewd, and callous. She will use any methods (no matter how reprehensible) to get the job done. You can tell Une's in Bitch-Mode when she has her glassed on and her hair up._

_Her second persona is completely different. For lack of a better name, I'll just call her Goody-Two-Shoes-Une. She is calm, poised, and willing to negotiate. She has more liberal views and presents herself as a beautiful and charming lady who often uses her charms to get the necessary (male) attention to convey her political views. This means she lets her hair down and takes her eyeglasses off._

_So in short: Clark Kent = Evil Une, Superman = Good Une. Once she will realize she's more than one person inside, she'll suffer a mental breakdown and eventually heal and help stop this fucking war. Better late than never..._

_NOTE TO SELF: Could prove useful trying to end this war, so keep this in mind when the time comes._

This was the second "note to self" Duo had written. It was as if his dad was writing these notes to himself, rather than reporting to someone else. Why would he gather such vital intelligence and keep it to himself? And how the hell could he know about this lady's split personality if she herself didn't know it yet?

Heero couldn't make heads or tails of it, but he didn't have time for it either. _Cinderella_ was waiting for him to take her to the ball, and he had little time to prepare decent-looking evening-wear and secure a proper carriage...

He will have to deal with this later. He needed some time to think and wrap his head around all of this.

Heero turned to place the notes carefully back inside the shoebox, but then froze, gaping at the gun. He took it out, shoved the papers back in, slammed the lid on top and hurried to put the box back up on the shelf. After taking the second shoe box with him, the one with the _actual shoes_, he left his dad's bedroom... also taking the gun with him.

* * *

He was right about the suit being a size too small. After he had ironed it, he put it on and was annoyed to find out that the blazer was a bit too tight, digging into his armpits, and that the pants rode up his crotch and revealed his ankles when he bent down or sat. To make it worse, his dad's shoes were two sizes bigger and his feet were swimming in them. And if that wasn't bad enough, he didn't know how to tie the damn necktie, so he just made a mess of it with an inappropriate knot. He felt like a fucking _clown!_

Cranky and annoyed, he stomped down the stairs, feeling the tight suit squeeze around his limbs with every step. He stumbled walking in his father's shoes. Was the universe trying to tell him something?

He didn't have his bike anymore (fucking OZ confiscated it), so he went to the toolshed to fetch his dad's old bike. Instead, he found something much better: a battered yellow scooter. It was covered by a large blanket and soiled with sand; the keys were in the ignition. When did his dad suddenly get a scooter? Why did he need it if he had his pickup truck? And why was he hiding it in the toolshed?

The questions just kept on coming, but no answers were in sight. Heero was getting frustrated; and when he was frustrated, he was angry. He dragged the scooter forcefully out of the shed, making a racket. Once outside, he mounted the scooter carefully, gripping the handles tightly as he ran his eyes over its meager controls. It didn't take him long to get the hang of it, and after a few laps around the backyard, engine roaring just for the heck of it, he was off to pick up "Cinderella" to the ball...

* * *

Relena, apparently, was a much better planner than he was. She didn't wait for him in a fancy prom dress or anything like that, just a plain pair of jeans, a thick raincoat and a backpack over her shoulder. She obviously planned on dressing up once they got to the mainland. Now why didn't _he_ think of that? Okay, in his defense, he could claim that his mind was preoccupied with a whole lot of other crap at the time.

"Nice ride," she complimented him on the yellow scooter, and then smiled in amusement when she saw that his pants were riding up to expose his white socks and ankles. Plus, his black dress shoes seemed unproportionally large...

"_Not a word_," Heero warned snippily, glowering at her, but she just laughed and walked over to the scooter. She stood next to him and reached her hands to unfasten his tie, stifling her giggles until it looked like she was going to explode.

"Shut up!" He grunted and she just burst out laughing, untying his necktie and then knotting it properly.

"Neckties are _stupid_," he grumbled and looked the other way, embarrassed.

"Oh, relax!" She said as she tightened her knot; "my mom used to do this for my dad all the time."

"These things must have been invented by women, just so you could make us feel stupid."

"Must have been our way to avenge for the corseted," Relena pointed out in amusement and climbed on the scooter, sitting behind Heero. She wrapped her arms around him and he tensed, like he always did, but forced himself to relax.

"Don't worry, I like the suit," she assured him with a soft smile, "but you should wipe that scary glare off your face. It makes you look like my _bodyguard_ rather than my _date_!"

"Just for that you can forget all about me ever taking you to the prom!"

"Oh, you were going to ask?" She taunted in mock-delight and a melodious voice.

"_No_!" he exclaimed petulantly and Relena laughed.

"Too bad," she told him; "I might have said 'yes'."

"Hn," Heero grunted, not sure how else to respond, and accelerated the scooter forward, speeding down the coast and hoping that the cold wind against his face would help ease the terrible warmth pulsating in his cheeks. Only she could make him feel so out of sorts and ill at ease at the same time.

* * *

The Viking Superstar ferry connected Block Island to Montauk, NY, located at the tip of the South Fork peninsula of Long Island. It was the fastest way to get to the Hamptons; a mere one hour ride via the high-speed ferry rather than a 6 hour drive around the peninsula. The Viking offered a limited fall season schedule that _incidentally_ happened to coincide with the Marchioness' wedding. It was pricey, but that wasn't a problem for Relena.

The ferry ride was uneventful. They spent it on the upper deck, leaning against the railing and gazing ahead at the raging waters, each with his or hers own troubled thoughts.

Once they docked in Montauk Harbor, Relena went to the public restrooms to get changed. Heero waited outside. After securing the yellow scooter to a parking rack, he wandered around the small parking lot, checking out the small assortment of luxury vehicles typical of the folks that lived around these parts. He stopped by an impressive full-size ultra-luxury car: a black and shiny Mercedes-Benz.

Yes, this one will do just nicely.

He turned his head left and right to make sure no one was looking, and then reached a hand into his pants' pocket to pull out his smartphone. His fingers worked the touchscreen rapidly.

A car wasn't a simple machine of glass and steel, but a hackable network of computers, increasingly automated and connected to a cellular service or Wi-Fi network. Shims and coat hangers were the clumsy tools of prehistoric car burglars. Modern-day thieves were able to unlock a vehicle's door without even touching it; that is, if they were as good a hacker as Heero was. From then on it was a simply matter of hacking into the computer to start the car and disable its tracking systems and so on. Child's play, really. [[1]]

After a few minutes of working on his smartphone, Heero paused, looked at the car, and then swiped his finger across the screen with a satisfied smirk on his handsome face.

The car locks opened with an audible _'pop!'_

* * *

Relena stepped out of the restrooms dressed in white A-line prom dress with a short skirt that gathered at the waistline before flaring out in an elegant silhouette, and a large blue bow on the back. She also wore matching white prom gloves reaching above the elbows. Her long dishwater-blonde hair was done rather plainly; half-down and half-up, gathered into a fine lace braid crowning her head. [[2]] She stood by the road, looking around in search of Heero.

A black Mercedes-Benz approached and stopped in front of her. She stared at it, confused, as the driver stepped out of the car. It was Heero. She gaped at him, shocked.

"Your chariot awaits, princess," he announced with a cynical smirk. The boy seemed pretty damned pleased with himself.

"You _stole_ a car?!" she marveled, appalled.

"Borrowed it," Heero corrected and she rolled her eyes.

"Heero, you can't just steal someone's car!"

"Did you expect us to show up on a scooter?" He retorted, quirking an eyebrow. She scowled at him crossly.

"Jesus, Heero. How..." She sighed, shaking her head. She eyed him warily as she approached the car and then stopped by the passenger's door, looking at him uncertainly.

"What else do I need to know about you?"

"The less, the better," the boy muttered dryly, looking at her firmly, his blue eyes hard and guarded. She maintained eye contact for a few moments, before stepping into the car. Heero slammed the door behind her and circled around the vehicle, back to the driver's seat. She couldn't help but gape at him, bewildered, as he drove out of the ferry dock and onto Montauk's dark streets. Not only did he already know how to drive a car, but it looked like this wasn't the first time he'd done so; his driving was smooth and confident – he had experience.

Relena shifted uneasily in her seat and turned to look out the windshield. It was raining and the wipers squeaked against the glass. She stared at them broodingly.

She has only known Heero for about two months, but she was well aware that he was no ordinary boy. Now she wondered just how much she didn't know about him. She stole a careful glimpse his way; the boy was focused on the road so he didn't notice. Her eyes fell on his back, where a suspicious hump was bulging from his waistline, sticking out to the right. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was.

"Are you _armed_?" She asked, dumbfounded.

Heero's hand quickly darted towards the lump, pushing back into his belt under the jacket. He shifted his hips to adjust his position, gripping the wheel tightly with his fists. But the stupid suit was too tight and the gun kept popping back out no matter how many times he tried to tuck it into his waistband. He sighed in annoyance.

"Yes," he confirmed, like it wasn't obvious already.

"Where did you get a gun?!" Relena wondered, looking at him cautiously. Heero kept quiet, glaring out the windshield.

"Do you know how to use it?" She asked despite his defiant silence. He didn't say a word.

Relena sighed and slumped back into her seat. She gazed broodingly out the window, thinking things over. Heero knew how to steal a car, as well as use a weapon. He wasn't joking when he said that the less she knew about him, the better. But he was just a _boy_... when did he learn all of this? Is that why he seemed so... burdened?

"Do you plan on using it?" She asked carefully, turning to face him.

"It's just a precaution," Heero answered quietly. "I'm hoping I won't have to."

"And if you will?" She asked fearfully.

"...then I can use it."

She didn't know what else to say. She turned to look out the window and into the dark rainy night, her blue eyes shining worriedly.

**To be continued...**

* * *

[1] Modern day vehicles are loaded with electronics, making them an increasingly enticing option for a variety of evil-doers. Your automobile could be wide open to attacks from cyber-terrorists and hackers – and the threat is only growing. A rather simple wireless hack can pop open your car doors in minutes!

[2] Referencing episode 11 of the anime, of course.


	18. Act Two - Part 9

**Paradox**

**Act Two Part 9**

The wedding reception was taking place in a grand impressive manor in the Hamptons [[1]]. The prestigious estate was surrounded by beautiful green fields and was overlooking a private beach. In that secluded corner of the Hamptons, the lands surrounding the manor were shrouded in darkness, but the estate grounds were illuminated by beautiful decorative lighting. The grand driveway was filled with luxury vehicles that stopped one by one in front of the great estate. Young valets took the cars once the passengers disembarked. Waiting in line for their turn, Heero tapped his fingers on the steering wheel restlessly. He had no keys to give the valet, and not to mention that he didn't quite look like he was in the legal driving age.

"You should get out," he told Relena, speaking through clenched teeth. This whole _"the rich and the famous"_ setting was making him nervous. "I'll park the car," he added, gesturing with his head towards the massive parking lot up ahead.

Relena nodded in compliance and stepped out of the car. Arranging her flared white dress and fluffing the large blue ribbon on the back, she watched him drive off and then turned to look around. Women in lovely gowns and men in expensive suits were stepping out of their extravagant cars and walking up to the large manor. She began making her way towards the entrance, keeping her eyes down and trying not to attract any attention to herself.

"Excuse me, miss," a male voice suddenly stopped her, "May I see your invitation?" [[2]]

She paused, turning around slowly to see a middle-aged usher smiling at her politely.

"I don't have an invitation," she replied calmly, smiling politely; "This was all very last minute, I'm afraid."

"I'm very sorry, miss, but I cannot let you in without an invitation," the usher insisted.

Just then, Heero came sprinting lightly towards them. He stopped next to Relena, turning to the usher.

"Is there a problem?" He asked gruffly, adjusting his tie with an irked expression

"Yes," the usher confirmed; "as I've explained to your girlfriend, you can't get in without an invitation."

Heero was about to open his mouth to retort (something very nasty by the glowering look on his face), but then a bald and bearded old man, dressed in old-fashioned aristocratic clothing, approached them.

"Relena!" He called in delight, smiling at the girl; "You're late!"

Both teenagers turned to look at the man, unable to mask their surprise. Relena gaped at the old aristocrat, stunned that he knew her name, while Heero glared at him warily. The bearded old man returned the boy's threatening scowl calmly.

"Oh, I see you've brought a date," he commented with a civil smile, his eyes giving Heero a thorough once-over. "It's a pleasure to meet you, young man. Any friend of Relena's is a friend of mine, of course."

"Marquis Weiridge," the usher interrupted apologetically; "I'm terribly sorry, sir. I had no idea they were your guests."

Relena's eyes narrowed suspiciously. This man was related to the bride. How did he know who she was? Could they have met once during the many social events her father used to force her to attend?

"Not to worry," the old man assured the usher kindly. He turned to the two adolescents and gestured at the manor. "Shall we go inside?" He suggested; "The reception is about to begin."

They followed him into the large mansion. An orchestra was playing in the background. Once inside the massive entrance foyer, Relena stopped and turned to the Marquis, curtsying politely with her white prom dress. Heero stood next to her, his arms crossed over his chest, still glaring at the old man with burning distrust.

"Thank you for your help," Relena expressed her gratitude civilly, through her sullen blue eyes gleamed warily.

"Don't mention it," the old man said; "These parties are always so full of uppity old people... You two youngsters are a breath of fresh air." He smiled wilily, glancing at Heero's harsh expression. "Besides," he turned back to Relena, offering his hands for a handshake, "It is an honor to aid the heiress of the Peacecraft throne."

As if he wasn't already as tense as a tightly drawn wire, Heero's shoulders tensed even more. He reached slowly behind his back, his fingers hovering over his gun, but Relena's hand flung towards his arm and stopped him. He whirled his head to glower at her, but she was still looking at the Marquis calmly. She squeezed his hand tightly, as if to tell him to relax. For some strange reason, he did, and she let go of his hand.

"Do you know who I am?" She asked the man carefully, and then frowned in confusion. "Have we met?"

"I'm afraid not, but I'd have to be blind not to see the Peacecraft influence in you," the old man smiled wistfully, a warm shine in his dark eyes. "You're a spitting image of your late mother."

"Did you know the Peacecrafts?" Heero intervened.

"I did," the man confirmed. "I was close to the Sanc Kingdom monarchy... until the family was overthrown thirteen years ago."

"Why were they overthrown?" Heero asked.

"It seems absurd," the Marquise sighed, "but while some people hope for peace, others try to gain power through disputes. The former was the Peacecraft family... and the latter was the United Earth Sphere Alliance."'

"Did the Peacecraft's vision of peace interfere with the Alliance's objectives?" Relena wondered, her voice sad.

"Yes," the old man sighed; "and even the Romefeller Foundation, which opposed the Alliance, is now developing weapons. Blasted OZ!"

"OZ?!" The two teens called simultaneously. Both seemed to realize that they were attracting unwanted attention to themselves – people were gaping at them curiously – and hurried to lower their voices.

"Wasn't OZ part of the Alliance?" Heero asked quietly after people diverted their eyes away once more. "Aren't they one of the same?"

Relena looked eagerly at the old man, waiting for his answer.

"Is that what they teach you kids in school nowadays?" The old aristocrat laughed, though there was no humor in his voice. "No, not at all. The real power behind OZ is _Romefeller_. I should know, I'm part of the high council, though I can't say we share the same views. Duke Dermail and I don't quite see eye-to-eye these days."

"Duke Dermail?" Relena questioned.

"The head of the Romefeller Foundation," the old man clarified. "This whole war is his game of chess."

"To what end?" Heero asked starkly.

"Why winning, of course," the Marquise smiled sadly.

"But what can he possibly hope to gain by throwing the Earth and Colonies into a state of total chaos?" Relena almost moaned, deeply troubled by these revelations.

"There's a lot of profit to be made in the aftermath of chaos, young lady. War is a very profitable business."

"How could it possibly be profitable when so much is lost?" Relena asked in pained voice.

"When human catastrophe strikes, the public spends money," the Marquise explained, "Quite a lot of it, my dear. Governments spend even more, both during and in the aftermath of destruction.

"Our biggest leaps in both technological and social advancement occur during and after large-scale wars. World War Two changed much for women and minorities, for example, and in this war we achieved great progress in MS and AI R&amp;D. Why, we have built machines that can fight without a human operator, saving thousands of lives on the battlefield. Wartime drives us to better ourselves, but at great costs."

"But what does Romefeller have to gain in all of this?" Heero asked, frowning; "I'm sure they're not after a social revolution..."

"War leads to devastation. If one were able to anticipate these world-wide disasters, they'd stand to make a fortune, son," the old man explained; "Obviously, predicting these alleged _acts of God_ is impossible. Unless, of course, one decides to _play_ God."

And here he had so naively thought that this war was about the oppression of the Colonies and the fight for freedom and equal rights!

"So they've appointed themselves _gods_?" Heero huffed angrily; "They started this war to make _money_?"

Marquis Weiridge nodded gravely. "They are nothing more than a consortium of savvy noblemen who have perfected the art of profiting off other people's fears," he said with a heavy sigh. "They manipulate world politics to their liking."

"They must be stopped," Relena stated firmly, her fists clenched. "The people have to know!"

The Marquise smiled at her warmly. "I do appreciate your passion, Princess, but it is not easy to kill a god, or to sway public opinion against him. They've thoroughly convinced the public that the fight is just. It would take far more than conventional weapons to stop these men. Troops are dying on the battlefield while they accumulate power and wealth, but that's not all, I'm afraid. There are other forces moving in the shadows..." The Marquise whispered uneasily, leaning closer to the two teens. "They're up to no good. I invited their leader, Treize Khushrenada, to this wedding. I was hoping to catch a word with him... to see what he was trying to pull, but instead he is sending over some _representative_."

"_Une_," Relena hissed the name out in disgust, the look in her eyes screaming blue murder.

Heero turned to her, frowning warily. She must mean Lady Une, the woman responsible for her father's death... the one with the split personality. Suddenly, he got the feeling that there was more behind Relena's motives to come here than simply digging for answers regarding her past. She was out for blood, wasn't she?

As if on cue, a group of armed Secret Service agents in black suits walked into the foyer, escorting a young woman dressed in a stylish black gown and expensive jewelry. She was a tall and fair-skinned brunette. Her hair was braided tightly and gathered into an elegant bun. She wore a pair of black eyeglasses that complimented her stern features and harsh brown eyes. A single red rose was clipped to her dress, over her breast.

The small foyer fell silent the moment she entered along with her fearsome entourage. Everyone turned to stare at her in silent trepidation. Marquis Weiridge hurried to step in front of Relena, hiding the young teenage girl behind him. Heero took a step back into the shadows as well, though he kept a clear line of sight with the tall brunette. Glancing towards Relena, he noted that the girl's fists were clenched angrily. She was glaring daggers at the woman; Lady Une, he assumed.

Une stopped and looked around the room, returning the awed stares with cold hard eyes. A sly, icy smirk graced her lipstick-brushed lips.

"Don't worry, I am here at the request of the Marquis," she assured coldly; "carry on," she ordered, smiling politely, and resumed walking towards the main hall. Once she left the foyer, conversation picked up again; people whispered anxiously amongst themselves.

"Young man," the Marquis turned to Heero, "I believe it's high time that you ask your lovely date to a dance," he said and turned to follow Lady Une into the main ballroom. Heero didn't need to be told twice; he got the hint. Relena shouldn't be seen by this woman. He took her hand, and before she could protest, dragged her past the large buffet table full of entrées and colorful fruits, and onto the teeming dancefloor.

"Heero—" Relena tried to object, trying to yank her hand out of his grasp. He held on tighter; he wasn't about to let her go do something stupid.

"Quiet, princess," he silenced her in a sharp whisper, pulling her along into the swarm of people waltzing on the dancefloor. Once he was certain they were thoroughly swallowed by the crowd, he stopped and turned to face Relena, raising another hand to take both her hands in his. That was when he lost his resolve.

He took her hands awkwardly, looking guilty.

"I, uh... I don't know how..." he mumbled in shameful admission, lowering his eyes to the floor, feeling stupid all of a sudden. He really didn't think this through, now did he? What the hell did _he_ know about dancing?

Relena smiled kindly and adjusted his hold on her hands, wordlessly instructing him to clasp her right hand in his left.

"Just follow my lead," she whispered as she slowly guided his right arm up to cup her left shoulder blade.

"Back straight, knees loose, elbows high," Relena instructed quietly, and smiled as he shifted gracelessly to adjust his position.

"Easy for you to say," he grumbled in a low quiet tone, adjusting his tie uncomfortably; "you're not the one wearing this damn suit!"

Relena smiled in amusement and placed her left hand, just her fingertips really, on his shoulder seam. He was very tense.

"Relax," she rebuked softly and then took the first step, moving to the left. He stumbled to the right, following her awkwardly.

"I'll do this once, and then you lead," she told him. "Pay close attention. We count in threes:" She guided him through the first set of movements, moving inside an imaginary box: "Step forward, step back, diagonally to the side and again..." She said as they completed the first circle. She looked up into his eyes, smiling. "Now you lead."

And just like that, Heero found himself _ballroom dancing!_ [[3]] It wasn't as complicated as it was awkward. After a while, he didn't even have to look down at his feet anymore. He looked up, meeting Relena's intense blue eyes. She gazed back at him coolly, dancing like an automaton, her expression tense. He could tell she was trying to restrain herself from shifting her wrathful gaze towards the Ambassador and the Marquis. Her eyes were burning furiously as she looked into his, drawing him into the fire. His entire world narrowed down to her intense blue eyes and he was no longer aware that he was standing within a swarm of people. It felt like Relena and he were the only two people in the room, but hardly in the romantic sense. It was like they were isolated from the rest of world, caught within a swirl of icy wind. It was the same kind of punitive, cold and calculating calm that engulfed a predator before pouncing at his prey; the same chilling sensation that had once swamped his young heart before he had pulled the trigger. The ill-omened feeling made his hair stand on end. He didn't want to feel this way ever again.

"I know why you're here," he whispered, looking tensely into her eyes. He glanced briefly aside, where he could catch a glimpse of Lady Une and Marquis Weiridge having what seemed to be a very intense conversation, and then back to Relena. He could tell she had followed his gaze as she shifted her eyes back at him, anger seething just beneath the surface of her fiery blue eyes.

"You think that this is your fight, but it's not," he said quietly, but firmly. The two were still waltzing on the dancefloor, moving absentmindedly to the music.

"You don't know anything," Relena accused, hissing the words out angrily.

"You're wrong," Heero insisted, "I know exactly how you feel, why you want to fight. In fact, I know too much." For a brief moment he considered telling her just _how much_ he knew: about her difficult past, and his own violent experiences; about her brother and what he learned on the OZ ship; about how he knew that Une killed her father... but then again, he was trying to talk her out of doing something rash, not the exact opposite. It was better to keep this information to himself, for now.

Relena smirked, the corner of her lips quirking slightly upwards. "That is a dangerous confession," she warned, glancing at Ambassador Une; "Especially in present company," she muttered resentfully and turned her gaze back at Heero. "It could get you killed."

"Then why risk it?"

She sighed, casting her eyed down sadly for a moment. "I was a stupid girl... I didn't know anything... but now it's different." She looked up, pinning his eyes with her sharp gaze. "Now I'm part of something that's bigger than me. I've seen things, Heero... I know things. I have a responsibility."

"To kill her?" He asked, his voice angry, wounded; "Do you really think you have it in you? Do you have any idea what it's like to take a life?"

"Do _you_?" She retorted spitefully, her astute blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction, as if she was onto something.

Heero lowered his gaze to the floor. "...maybe I do," he mumbled, staring at his shoes as his feet moved mechanically to the waltz.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest. Relena remained silent, which was making him worry. He shouldn't have said that!

He looked up slowly, apprehensive. But Relena didn't seem at all surprised by his confession. Quite the contrary, she seemed... pleased? Smug, even. His heart thumped forcefully. Why wasn't she bothered by this?

"Then we should do this together," she said, smiling almost sweetly, though her eyes seared with fiery determination. "Let me fight with you."

He gaped at her, shocked by her request. "With me?" He echoed numbly, his dancing faltering slightly. He didn't mean to give her the wrong idea; he didn't want her to think that he still did the things he did Before.

"No," he said curtly, shaking his head in violent negation. "I don't do that anymore," he told her, looking starkly into her eyes; "and neither should you."

"There are more ways to fight than simply _killing_ people!" She whispered angrily. "We can make a difference, Heero!"

"And how do you expect us to do that?" He questioned skeptically; "Two kids from Block Island take on the whole world? It doesn't work like that, princess."

"There are kids out there, fighting. They're no older than the two of us and they're making a difference."

"The Gundams aren't making any difference," Heero responded harshly, lowering his voice as he spoke the unholy word. "They're a nuisance to OZ, nothing more."

"Whose side are you on, anyway?!" She demanded, pushing him away angrily. "You might be satisfied with sitting on the sidelines, but I for one am going to use my knowledge and my past to do something about this impossible war!" And with that heated declaration, she stomped away from the crowded dancefloor.

Heero remained stranded alone in a swarm of dancing couples, gaping after her in confusion. She couldn't possibly be more farther from the truth. He did want more than his mundane little life, but that didn't necessarily mean that he was willing to go back to how things were Before; he knew better than that now.

It seemed that instead of talking Relena out of whatever she had planned tonight, all he managed to do was give her the wrong idea, swaying her towards something reckless no doubt. He had to go after her!

"Excuse me," a haughty female voice spoke from behind him just as he was about to step away from the floor, "I couldn't help but notice that you're lacking a dance partner while the music is still playing."

Frowning, Heero turned back around slowly. A young teenage girl, about his age, was standing before him in a flared black evening gown. She had very long platinum-blonde hair and a black hair-ribbon around her head. Her eyes were a cold, icy blue and her pink lips were curled upwards in an amused smirk.

"It's so rare to meet someone my age in these events," she said, tossing a lock of blonde hair back elegantly. "Would you mind?" She asked, offering her delicate white hand forward.

"I'm with someone," he hurried to say, frowning at her outstretched hand.

"Yes," the girl droned, smiling arrogantly, "but she seems to be preoccupied at the moment."

Heero glanced over his shoulder and saw that Relena was standing by the lavish buffet, speaking to some noblemen. He sighed, turning back to face the overconfident girl who still waited for him to accept her invitation.

"You won't leave a girl hanging, would you?" She teased, smirking. She was still waiting for him to take her hand.

"I'm Dorothy Theodora Catalonia," she introduced herself; her last name rang a distant bell. He was certain he had read something about a General Catalonia in his father's notes.

"I am the granddaughter of Duke Dermail," the girl concluded her introduction.

_Duke Dermail?_ That name he certainly recognized. Marquise Weiridge said that Dermail was the man behind Romefeller.

He reached to take the girl's hand. "Pleased to meet you," he mumbled and took her other hand. The two arranged themselves into a waltzing position. The Viennese Waltz was playing and all around them couples were constantly twirling either in a clockwise or anti-clockwise direction, intermingled with change steps to switch between the directions of rotation. It was a different dance than the one Relena just taught him, but he tried to mimic what he saw around him, turning his self-appointed partner around the dancefloor.

"Not bad for someone who just learned how to waltz," Dorothy commented slyly. Heero sent her a harsh glare, displeased that she had noticed him being a novice. She's been watching Relena and him, hasn't she?

The blonde girl smirked playfully. "Not to worry," she said and allowed him to swirl her around to the music, her black dress flaring and twirling with her; "You're a fast learner," she told him once they were facing each other once more. "I'm impressed."

"Well, this isn't exactly _rocket science_," he muttered.

"True," she agreed, chuckling. "And somehow I get the feeling you're likely to know more about that than ballroom dancing. Social etiquette doesn't seem to be your strong suit. Why, you haven't even told me your name!"

"Heero Yuy," he lied, pinning her gaze with his sharp blue eyes in hopes it would be enough to ward her off before she asked anymore questions. But instead, the girl's eyes lit excitedly and she grinned.

"Oh, what a wonderful name!" She called, pleased beyond measure. [[4]] Okay, maybe he shouldn't have gone with that. How could she possible know who Heero Yuy was? Kids their age were supposed to be clueless about Colony History!

"Once upon a time there were two people with the same name," Dorothy suddenly opened in a story. They were still dancing, turning left and right across the dancefloor. "One of them risked his life to bring peace to outer space and became a legend amongst the Colonists. Many people were saddened by his death and they angrily swore to avenge him."

Heero frowned at the oddly timed tale, but listened.

"Then there was another person with the same name who almost became a legend... a soldier who wasn't powerful enough to fight for peace and died a pitiable death. I wonder if now there is another person by that same name who will get killed and become a legend too. I hope that won't happen before he lives a strong, noble and passionate life. That way he'd become a much bigger legend, don't you agree, Heero Yuy?"

"I have no idea what you're babbling about," he said and stopped dancing, pulling away. This girl knew too much; he should get away from her. After all, she was related to the enemy.

Dorothy laughed. "I'm sure you don't," she said, though her smug tone suggested otherwise. "And that lovely date of yours," she added, gesturing with her head towards Relena, who was still mingling with various noblemen away from the dancefloor. "She seems to be quite the life of the party. What's her name?"

"Relena," he grumbled, too distracted to come up with a lie while he watched his friend make her way slowly past the buffet, moving inconspicuously towards the Ambassador and the Marquise while stopping to mingle with people here and there to appear harmless. She was a natural; completely avoiding suspicion.

"Is it now..." Dorothy let out thoughtfully. Heero turned back to her, frowning impatiently.

"Why – you have a story about her name too?" He asked nastily and she laughed some more.

"As a matter a fact I do," she said, smiling cunningly. "It's a story about a lost princess called Relena Ingeborg Thyra Feodora Peacecraft. She's believed to be dead, though."

Inside, his mind was reeling and his heart was pounding, but still he managed to keep a cool façade. "Yeah, so?" He grunted petulantly.

"You know, some say that her mother, the late Queen Katrina, was in love with the legendary Heero Yuy..."

"Sounds quite like the preposterous soap opera," he muttered, faking indifference. [[5]]

"Oh yes, quite," she agreed, smiling haughtily; "But these are just stories, of course. Courtyard gossip, really."

The music stopped and the couples on the dancefloor ceased dancing. Dorothy bowed gracefully, curtseying before him. She straightened back up, keeping his eyes pinned with hers the whole time. It was very unsettling. Her sharp blue eyes were as cold as diamonds.

"Thank you for a wonderful dance, _Heero Yuy,_" she purred his name sweetly.

"Yeah, sure," he mumbled and she smiled again, before walking away. Heero turned to do the same, planning to finally go after Relena before she made it to the Ambassador. He absentmindedly reached his hand behind his back, brushing against the slight bulge above his waist to make sure his gun was still there. With all that dancing around, he was relieved the damn thing didn't pop out of his waistband and fell to the floor without him noticing.

Heero turned to scan the large ballroom, searching for Relena, when suddenly he spotted a familiar rope of brown hair in the distance – a braid; a long, thigh-length braid, which didn't belong to anyone wearing a dress. The figure had just slipped through a service door in the far back of the large ballroom. Forgetting all about Relena for the moment, he hurried after the braided figure, running towards the service door.

Once past the door, Heero found himself in a large and bustling kitchen, where a catering service crew was hard at work to get more dishes out to the buffet. Cooks in white and waiters in black were all moving about hastily. He stood at the door for a moment, before catching sight of that swinging braid again. It belonged to a waiter in a black suit whose back was currently facing Heero. His lanky figure was tall, but not as tall as his father. Heero hurried towards him.

Just as he was about to reach the braided figure, the waiter turned, holding a large silver tray full of appetizers, and the two nearly bumped into each other. The tray rattled and the young waiter hurried to steady it, elegantly balancing it with one arm while he bounced back up.

"Hey! Watch it, will ya?!" He called out angrily, looking up from the tray.

And once again Heero found himself gaping at the face of a boy who seemed so much like his father, only about twenty years younger.

"Oh shit," the boy let out, almost panicked. "Da fuck are _you_ doin' here?!"

It took Heero a moment to get his wits back together.

"I could ask you the same thing," he retorted.

"What's it look like I'm doin'?!" the boy snapped, rolling his eyes; "I'm working!"

His snippy tone and crude voice were so familiar it was unsettling. Heero had to take a moment to find his voice again.

"Somehow I doubt this job is legit," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest, which caused his a-size-too-small blazer to tighten around him uncomfortably. He glared at the boy.

"More legit than getting your sorry ass outta trouble," the boy muttered disdainfully, his gaze just as glowering as Heero's.

"If you call leaving me stranded on a beach to die _legit_, then yeah, sure."

"Oh please! You're back to _that _shit? I said I was sorry! I came back for you, didn't I? _And _I helped you out after OZ did a number on you, you ungrateful sonofabitch. By the way, you're not gonna _faint _again, are you? Man, I had no idea seeing my face has such an effect on people..."

"I was drugged!" Heero protested, shaking his fists angrily. "And you just left me there afterwards!"

"Well, I couldn't carry you up the cliffs with me! Could barely haul my own ass outta that beach of yours. 'Sides, you were _fine_! Look at you now – you're all good, right? Enjoying the party, are we? Food's great, ain't it? I'd stay away from this one, though," he smirked, gesturing up with his tray.

"Hey – Maxwell!" An angry male voice called over the clamor in the kitchen, and both teenage boys turned in its direction.

"He means me, _asshole,_" the braided boy grunted between clenched teeth, rolling his eyes. Heero scowled at him offensively, crossing his arms over his chest again. This boy shared his last name?! He was right about him being Duo's son, wasn't he? Shit.

"Yeah boss?" The boy called back towards the voice, which belonged to a middle-aged man standing in the opposite side of the kitchen.

"These trays aren't gonna carry themselves out there!" The man rebuked sternly. "Get your ass moving, or so help me God you won't work in the Hamptons again!"

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya..." the boy muttered, waving one hand in the air dismissively. He held the tray steadily in his other hand.

"Well," he turned to face Heero again; "duty calls," he said, smirking slyly. "Something tells me this is going to be one hellova party," he added smugly, gesturing with the tray again, and then turned on his heels to carry the tray out of the kitchen.

"By the way," he said, stopping to look over his shoulder, at Heero. "That a gun down your pants or you're just _really_ happy to see me again?" He winked and continued out of the kitchen.

Alarmed, Heero hurried to send a hand behind his back to feel for his weapon. It was really sticking out of his waistband after he had crossed his arms over his chest a couple of times. Shit. Stupid suit! He hurried to tuck it back in, but when he touched it he immediately realized something was wrong. It wasn't a gun he was touching, it couldn't be; it was too soft. He hurried to draw the object out of his waistband, flinging it up to his face. It was a banana. A fucking _banana!_

"Hey!" he called after the boy (he still didn't know his first name!) and ran out of the kitchen to catch up with him, waving the damn banana. He caught the braided teenager a few steps from the service door.

"Give it back!" he growled, slapping the boy across the shoulder with the banana. The boy turned to him, holding the tray of appetizers. His blue eyes darted towards the banana and he frowned before turning to glare at Heero dangerously.

"Give _what_ back!" He snapped, annoyed. "Can't you see I'm workin' here?!" He muttered, eyeing the banana in Heero's hand again. "Da fuck's wrong with you, dickhead?"

Heero leaned towards the boy menacingly, still holding the banana up like a threatening club. He waved it up and down angrily as he spoke:

"You took my gun and I want it back!" he whispered so no one would hear him mention a gun.

"_You took my gun and I want it back…_" the boy mimicked Heero in a whiny/childish mocking tone and rolled his eyes, scoffing while shoving the banana and Heero's hand out of his face.

"Listen you fucking _crybaby_," he warned, glowering; "I didn't take nuthin'. I happen to know better than to _waltz_ in here carrying a piece!"

"Then whe—" Heero grilled irritably, but his question was interrupted by a gunshot and a sharp scream.

"What the Hell..?" the braided boy let out, turning around to face the commotion by the dancefloor.

Heero looked up as well, his eyes widening in horror when he realized what just happened.

Relena had just taken a shot at the Ambassador – pointing _his_ (dad's) gun at the woman! He turned slowly to look at the banana in his hand, gaping at it numbly. He recalled passing by the buffet while dragging Relena to the dancefloor. He remember a pile of fruits, including bananas. Relena had more than enough opportunities to switch the gun with the banana while they danced. She could have hidden it inside large blue bow on the back of her dress. Clever choice for an outfit, he now realized; far more practical than his snug suit, that's for sure. She had planned this all along.

It took him less than a second to realize all of this and once he did he gasped: "Oh shit!"

His braided companion chuckled. "You said it, man."

Secret Service agents quickly leaped into action. Throwing the banana to the floor, Heero cussed and ran towards the commotion, while the braided boy slipped unnoticed out the kitchen door.

Within the chaos the gunshot ensued, no one paid any heed to the young and fair blonde teenage boy who stood inconspicuously by the buffet, holding a glass of champagne while his calculative aquamarine-blue eyes observed the hectic scene calmly.

**To be continued...**

* * *

[1] Bear in mind that I was _so_ thinking about the TV show "Revenge" when I wrote this chapter. Emily Thorne rocks!

[2] Yes, as in the previous chapter, this is also based on episode 11 of the anime.

[3] Yes, of course I was thinking about episode 6! I love the dance scene, though I don't believe Heero would have known how to waltz... or was that part of Dr. J's training program? Maybe he was training to become _James Bond?_

[4] Yup! I'm referring to Heero's and Dorothy's fencing scene in episode 31 of the anime: "The Glass Kingdom".

[5] Frozen Teardrop pun intended.


	19. Act Two - Part 10

**Paradox**

**Act Two - Part 10**

Outside the large Hamptons manor, a black sedan stood waiting in a small dark loading/unloading parking space behind the main kitchen, its engine running. Duo Maxwell, 35, sat behind the wheel, concealed in shadows. He was dressed fully in black: dark denim and a leather jacket. A gun rested in his lap. He held it readily with one hand while the other rested on the steering wheel. He was tapping on the wheel with his fingers restlessly as he stared tensely out the windshield. His dark cobalt blue eyes were locked unwaveringly on a closed service door leading out of the building in front of him. His eyes darted briefly towards the dashboard clock display, noting the late hour, and then back at the closed door. His tapping grew stronger, more pressing.

A hand suddenly flung towards him, gripping his tapping hand tightly by the wrist.

"Stop it, or I'll break your hand," a quiet baritone voice warned in a cold deadpan tone and the iron grip around his wrist tightened to emphasize the seriousness of this threat.

"_Jesus!_" Duo grunted and yanked his arm away from the steely hand. "_Fucking asshole_..." he muttered as he pressed his aching arm to his chest, rubbing his wrist; "You coulda broken it!"

"That was the point," his companion replied conceitedly, leaning back into the passenger's seat. Duo turned to glare at the person sitting next to him – Heero. The young man, 27 years of age, was wearing Preventer uniform; coincidently, Duo found himself eight years younger and wearing the same uniform, except Heero's was perfectly pressed compared to the creases and wrinkles of his own – a result of wriggling restlessly in his seat for the last few hours.

"Remind me again why I agreed to go on a twelve hour stakeout with you _asshole_?" Duo grumbled, still rubbing his throbbing wrist.

"Because I'm the only one who's willing to put up with your pointless chatter for so long," Heero replied nonchalantly, facing the passenger's side window as he studied the dark shipping yard beyond the alleyway in which they were parked. They had a good view on one of the empty piers, waiting for a ship that would unlikely arrive tonight, but better safe than sorry. The last thing Preventer needed was to lose yet another cargo shipment full of highly-sensitive technology arriving from space.

"Ah," Duo let out, smiling cunningly at the back of Heero's head, for the other young man was still observing the docks; "but that's where you're wrong, _asshole_, because it just so happens that _I'm_ the only one willing to put up with _you _for that long!"

"Then it is a beneficial arrangement," Heero concluded calmly and Duo scoffed in irritation.

"Always the romantic..." he muttered, sighing, and turned to look out the windshield. He resumed tapping his fingers on the steering wheel absentmindedly, glaring out the window.

"Five fucking years and all I get from the guy is a damn _beneficial arrangement..._" he grumbled fumingly.

"Five years?" Heero actually sounded surprised. He turned to Duo, a frown creasing his handsome features. "Why that long?"

"Da fuck do you mean _that_ long?!" Duo exclaimed defensively, crossing both arms of his chest and glaring at his life partner. "I ain't no prison sentence, yanno!"

"Then why count the years?" Heero returned the sarcastic sentiment, smirking at his flustered partner.

"Cuz that's what people do!"

"We've been together far longer than five years," Heero pointed out blankly.

"Yeah, well... those first few years don't count," Duo mumbled, shrugging.

"How come?"

"Because we weren't _together_ together, that why. I count five years since we made it _official_."

The frown was still there. "But we started sleeping together over five years ago."

"That don't count either."

"Why not?"

Duo sighed in frustration. "I dunno. It just doesn't."

"So when did it become official?"

"Easter 202," Duo replied with a wistful smile, but Heero just seemed even more perplexed, trying to recall what was so remarkable about that time.

"Isn't that when I blew you up?" He finally asked.

"Yup," Duo confirmed, nodding with a smile.

"How did that make it official?" Heero inquired, "I put you in a coma," he reminded Duo uneasily. The braided young man turned to face him, smiling softly.

"Yeah, which made me realize just how much I love your crazy ass, so there."

"Then should I be counting from the day I realized that we're together?" Heero quirked an eyebrow and Duo scoffed.

"God, Heero, why do you always have to be so dense?! We can't have a different count!"

"Why not?"

"Just... because! We can only have _one _date, and I say it's Easter!"

"Why only one date?"

"Cuz that's what people do! They set a date!"

"What for?"

"To celebrate or whatever! I dunno! It's a thing. Anniversaries... Grand romantic gestures and all that shit."

"You're expecting a grand romantic gesture?" Heero almost seemed appalled by the apparently_ inconceivable_ notion.

"_No_," Duo snapped sarcastically, "I expect you to jump out of a_ fucking window_ before that ever happens, but knowing you, you'd probably end up landing on your feet and keep on running, so... yeah. You get my point. I ain't holdin' my breath or nuthin'. I know who I'm with."

Heero turned to watch the night through the window, his expression thoughtful, troubled. A dark haunted look shone in his Prussian blue eyes as he stared silently into the night. It was fucking heart-wrenching. Feeling guilty, Duo turned to look out the windshield as well. God, why did he always get himself into these situations? Why must he always push things too far before he recalled that Heero could be as strong and unyielding as steel, but his heart was as fragile as glass? [[1]] Heero tended to take offense when someone hinted at his allegedly lacking humanity.

He turned to Heero slowly, an apology shining in his remorseful blue eyes.

"Look, I uh... I was just being stupid, so forget it, okay?" He offered softly, smiling apologetically at Heero, though the young man was still gazing numbly out the windshield.

"Let's just focus on the mission," Duo suggested, trying to get the awkwardness over and done with; "We'll leave the shouting for the bedroom... deal?" He smiled at his own attempt at a joke and reached for Heero's hand, offering a truce.

Finally tearing his gaze away from the window, Heero studied their joined hands, still frowning thoughtfully, before nodding in agreement. He turned to look out the windshield again, pulling his hand away gently from Duo's grasp and clasping both fists over his lap tensely.

Duo heaved another frustrated sigh. Heero might have accepted his apology, but he was still upset.

A tense silence fell over the vehicle as both young agents glowered wordlessly at the dark alley ahead. Duo resumed tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, even more agitated than before.

Sitting alone in a dark parking lot eight years later (at least from his perspective), tapping his fingers edgily against the wheel much like he did that night, Duo painfully recalled how four months later he had learned that his attempt to pacify his lover had failed, for Heero still took his words seriously; so seriously, that not only did he book them a romantic getaway for their five-year anniversary that Easter, but he also managed to jump out of a damn window just like Duo had so ignorantly joked... only that instead of landing on his feet and running off unscratched, Heero snapped his neck and died, leaving Duo with years of memories and an empty hotel room in which to commemorate them in tears. Mission accepted indeed. God damn it, why did Heero always take his assignments so fucking seriously?!

Fuck, he hated stakeouts. Too much time to think!

"What's taking him so long?!" He exclaimed in frustration and looking agitatedly at the closed service door leading into the Weiridge Manor's kitchen.

"He should have been here by now!"

_'Something is wrong,'_ a quiet voice whispered in the back of his head and Duo rolled his eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock," he grumbled back even though he knew he was alone. He did that sometimes, talking to that imagined voice in his head. He tried not to make a habit out of having make-believe conversations with his lover's imaginary ghost, but sometimes it helped him think, helped keep his perspective in check, especially during a mission. Heero had— _used_ to have – that effect on people. Nothing could ever come before _The Mission_ and Heero always made certain of it. Duo needed the reminder.

_'You should have gone out there yourself,'_ Heero's quiet voice rebuked and Duo frowned irately.

"I am _so_ not arguing with a dead man right now!" He snapped at the inner-voice; "Besides, they were expecting the _other_ me, not _me!_ One of them is watching, for sure. This time it's up to Junior, okay?!"

_'You shouldn't have trusted him with this,'_ Heero's voice reprimanded softly; _'you're far more competent and in much better physical condition to execute this mission.'_

"Physically, maybe, but _mentally_? You do get that I'm having a conversation with my dead lover at this very moment, don't you? I wouldn't exactly call this _fit for duty_, Heero, so cut the crap. Get outta ma fuckin' head! You had your chance to pull off a successful mission and you totally _blew it_ – pun intended! – so _shut up!_"

He could almost hear his deceased lover snort before retreating somewhere deep into his mind, where he belonged. He should really break this bad habit of having pretend-conversations in his head. It wasn't helping him keep his focus anymore.

The service door leading out the manor's kitchen suddenly opened and out slipped the slim figure of a teenage waiter. The boy ran towards the car, his long braid flapping behind him. He entered on the passenger's side and slammed the door behind him quickly.

"You should really step on it, dude," he told the older man, huffing the words out breathlessly.

Duo shifted the car into gear.

"Does this mean you did it?" He asked as he backed out of the driveway.

"Um, actually, there was a _slight_ hitch in plans..."

"What do you mean _hitch?_ Were you caught? Did you manage to slip her the drug?"

"Well, um... not exactly," the boy mumbled as his adult counterpart sped the car out of the manor's grounds. Emergency vehicles were speeding towards the main gate, sirens flashing.

"What's all this then?" Duo grunted, blue eyes glaring.

The boy smiled awkwardly. "Well, uh... First you gotta promise you won't get mad..."

* * *

Later that night, rain was hammering heavily down on the massive flight deck of the OZ battleship circling Block Island. Bright yellow and red lights reflected off large puddles scattered across the runway and helipad. Emerging from the fog and rain, a helicopter touched down on the helideck, its rotor noise resonating loudly in the night.

Once the chopper landed, a group of OZ soldiers surrounded the aircraft, armed and ready. One of them opened the door and out stepped a slim leg clad in black pantyhose and high heels. Lady Une exited the helo, dressed in the black evening gown she wore to the reception. The red rose that was pinned to her chest at the beginning of the evening was gone.

The young soldier helped his superior out of the helicopter. Once she was standing steadily on deck, she pushed him away violently, muttering something unpleasant that was swallowed by the sound of the helicopter's blades spinning loudly. She stomped away from the chopper, stumbling on her high heels through the puddles. Annoyed, she slipped them off her feet and continued marching angrily towards the main command tower while holding her shoes in her hand.

Two more figures prepared to step out of the helicopter – Heero and Relena. A soldier sitting behind them was nudging the two teenagers towards the door, signaling them to step down. Heero went first, jumping out of the chopper. He wasn't wearing his suit's jacket, just a white dress shirt and tie which flapped wildly with the wind, the wet fabric smacking his face. He stood and took a look around, his eyes sweeping the flight deck until they fell on a row of massive mobile suits standing by the main tower. The Leos were slick with rain, washed by the flight deck's harsh projector lights. He stared at them for a moment, before he turned back around and offered his hand out to Relena, helping her out the helo.

The blonde girl accepted his aid in silence and stepped onto the deck as well, glaring ahead fiercely at the rainy night; her angry blue eyes deliberately avoiding Heero. She was wearing his black blazer around her slim shoulders. Her white prom dress billowed the moment she touched down on the deck, tousled wildly by the wind, as was her long blonde hair. Her left cheek was red and bruised; she had been hit by one of the soldiers while being apprehended. Heero had punched the damn asshole, and when the soldier swung back he had ducked, avoiding the blow. Then, two other soldiers came from behind and restrained him as well.

Relena's foolish attempt on the Ambassador's life ended in a blunder. She did manage to take a shot at woman, but only clipped the red rose off her dress before the bullet shot past Une and ricocheted off the celling. Either she was a lousy shot who couldn't aim to kill, or she was an excellent markswoman, aiming _not_ to kill. Heero didn't know which one was it, because Relena hasn't spoken a word since the incident. Once she had missed, she dropped the gun and let Une's bodyguards arrest her, glaring wrathfully at the woman while her hands were being cuffed roughly behind her back.

_'Roses don't suit you,'_ she had hissed hatefully at the Ambassador [[2]], and hasn't spoken a word since.

Heero was found guilty by association and was taken along with her on the arrest.

The two were escorted by armed soldiers into the bowels of the ship. They were ushered into the gray interrogation room where Heero was brought before, and were restrained to their seats, hands cuffed behind their backs. The two soldiers stepped away and stood by the door, guarding the room.

Silence fell. Heero turned to look at Relena, wishing to make sure she was all right. The girl still wouldn't look at him. She kept her head up facing forward, glaring tensely at the wall, avoiding his worried gaze. He wasn't sure why she was so angry. Maybe because she couldn't go through with her plan, maybe she was ashamed that she even tried; or, perhaps, she was angry with _him_ for not doing it for her after admitted that he was much more experienced in the matter? He hoped she didn't expect him to kill for her. She was his only friend, the only one he's ever had, and he didn't want their friendship to depend on whether or not he was willing to soil his hands with more blood for her. He would do many things for her, but not that; never that, never again.

The door opened and the two guards standing next to it stood at attention, tensing visibly. Lady Une walked in, wearing elite OZ military uniform, colonel rank. It was a similar getup to that of Colonel Merquise and Lieutenant Noin, only Une's was a brown-colored skirt-uniform showing off her slim legs. She was no longer in a pair of high heels, but black military boots. Her stride was as confident as the cocky look on her face when she marched into the room. The guards saluted her and she dismissed them with a swift salute before turning to the two teenagers sitting bound to their chairs at the center of the room. She smirked nastily at Relena.

"Miss Darlian," she greeted slyly, her voice cold and hard; "You certainly came a long way since I last saw you." Une shifted her harsh gaze towards Heero, looking him up and down in disgust; "Made a few interesting friends, I see," she added, turning back to Relena. She snarled viciously. "You should have left the job to the professional, darling."

She too had it all wrong, Heero realized with dismay. Just like Col. Merquise, Une thought that he was one of the pilots. She thought _he_ was the one trying to kill her... Oh boy.

"I should have Merquise's head for letting you go, boy," Colonel Une glared down at Heero fiercely. "You might have been able to fool him, but you can't fool me."

"Seems to me like you're doing a fine job at it all by yourself," Heero snarled back at her, looking up at the tall woman from his inferior position on the chair, his hands behind his back, but his eyes betrayed not a shred of weakness.

Une slapped him, hard, and his head whirled aside by the force of the blow. He blinked, surprised, but quickly gathered back his wits and turned to glare at the woman furiously.

"I am not one of them!" He growled through clenched teeth.

"Deny it all you want, boy, but you are not leaving this room until you tell me how I can find the rest of you _rascals_."

"We're not telling you anything!" Relena called out angrily. "Even if we did kn—"

"We'll only speak to Colonel Merquise!" Heero cut in before she'd stupidly admit to having no valuable information to give the woman. Right now, their best card was that Une thought they were involved with the Colony Liberation Organization and that they could lead her to the Gundams. He wasn't about to let Relena throw away this leverage. And besides, he was pretty certain that he had another valuable card up his sleeve, one he could only use if he was confronting Merquise. If the notes he found in his father's closet were by any means true, then Merquise would never hurt Relena; she was his little sister after all.

"If you want us to talk, then call him in here," Heero repeated his demand, glowering up at Une. The woman examined him like an insect she intended to crush. His glare didn't waver. Une smirked spitefully.

"Sadly, you're not the one calling the shots here, boy. Merquise answers to _me_ – not the other way around."

"We're not saying anything to _you_," Heero insisted, his tone as nasty as his insolent glare, "If you want to hear what we have to say, send for Merquise."

Relena turned to look at Heero, scowling in confusion. He had no time to explain, so he ignored her curious stare, keeping his sharp eyes on Lady Une. The two glowered at one another in a silent battle of wills. Finally, Une's lips curled into a cold snarl.

"Very well," she said in a chillingly playful tone. "If that's how you want to play this." She turned around and nodded at the guards. One of them nodded back and left the room. A while later, he returned, escorting the Colonel. The tall blonde man, dressed in his red elite uniform and eerie silver helmet, stepped briskly into the room. He stopped a feet from the door and turned his masked gaze at Heero. Heero glared back defiantly. Zechs sneered coldly at the boy.

"Leave us," he said, never turning his eyes away from Heero. Une looked like she was about to snap at him, but then she snarled and nodded her head in compliance. "Do not disappoint me, Merquise," she sneered at him before leaving the room. The two guards remained by the door.

"You too," Zechs ordered without turning away from the two teenagers sitting bound before him. The guards left as well. Once alone with the two teens, Zechs spoke:

"I didn't think you'd be so eager to return after your last visit," he told Heero in a provokingly calm voice. He turned to Relena. "And you," he bit out snipingly, "I wish you were wise enough to keep a low profile after what happened to your father."

Relena glowered at him angrily. "I don't see why you'd even care," she spat, yanking at the cuffed hands behind her back, "but I won't hide any longer. I can't sit quietly with what I know."

"Then OZ will have you silenced," the Colonel assured her coolly.

"They wouldn't dare," Heero countered in spite. The Colonel turned to him, cocking his head aside curiously.

"Oh?" he let out smugly.

Heero glowered at the man, his blue eyes burning assertively. "You won't let them. Just like you didn't let them lay a finger on her back in 91," he divulged intentionally.

Relena's lips parted in shock. She stared at him oddly, stunned that he knew about how she was kidnapped four years ago. Her brows furrowed as she seemed to understand what he meant while they were dancing when he said that he knew too much. She frowned, scowling warily.

Zechs, however, only seemed peeved. The masked officer regarded him silently for a moment before he stepped closer to his chair and placed a strong hand on the backrest. He tilted it back dangerously as he leaned over the teenage boy, looking at him straight in the eye through his mask.

"And you still insist that you play an innocent role in all of this?" he whispered harshly in the boy's ear.

"I never said I was innocent," Heero responded in a low voice, just as dangerous as the Colonel's. He wasn't intimidated by the man's display of power. He had spent most of his early childhood being bullied and abused by an older man before Duo came and took him away from all of it. There was nothing Merquise could do that could possibly be worse than Before. The Ozzie had no power over him. Odin might have made him feel small and helpless, but since he died, no one ever has or ever will again. Drawing strength from that, Heero kept his eyes on the Colonel, his expression hard, unfazed by the threat.

"Hm," the officer smirked, amused by the boy's perseverance, and straightened back up. The chair fell back forward, rocking Heero roughly.

"You seem keen on getting yourself killed. You'd be wise not to tempt me, boy."

"Go ahead," Relena dared him, lifting her chin up spitefully. "Finish what _she_ started and murder us in cold blood as you did my father. What's a couple more deaths in this _meaningless_ war?"

Even behind his helmet, Zechs seemed taken aback. Then, his gloved fists clenched angrily and he turned to Relena stiffly.

"This war is _not_ meaningless," he hissed intensely; "The fact that you are ready to throw your life away so carelessly and deem this war as meaningless just goes to show how naïve you truly are."

"Spare me your OZ_ propaganda_!" Relena snapped back; "I know that Romefeller is behind all this, and all they care to achieve is power and wealth. People think they are giving away their lives for so-called _king and country_, but in fact they are just pawns in this pointless game of chess designed to benefit a mere handful of people! Your fight, the Gundams' fight... all these bloody battles... they're all pointless. You're all being played and you can't even see it because you're blinded by false ideals. _You're_ the naïve one, Colonel, not me."

Zechs smirked at her impudence. "Very well put, but you're wrong, _child_," he claimed in a self-important manner; "I do know what I'm fighting for, and that is exactly why this war has _plenty_ of meaning." [[3]]

Relena scoffed, wordlessly dismissing his contention.

"How can this war have meaning when people have lost sight of what they are fighting for?" She questioned. "OZ is sending troops to fight Alliance renegade forces in space, while the Colonies keep sending terrorists down to Earth... it's a mess! Space is looking at _Une_ to solve their problems, choosing an _Earthling_ to represent their interests, while Earth continues to accumulate enormous military forces against them... Is everyone _blind_?! The lines have blurred beyond recognition and now there's only chaos and pointless bloodshed. What are all those people dying for?! How can you possibly call this war _meaningful_?!"

Sitting quietly next to the girl, listening to her passionate argument, all Heero could do was stare in awe. She was stunning; powerful and fierce. Unlike him, the messed-up kid wandering aimlessly through life, she knew exactly where she stood and wasn't afraid to act on her beliefs with ferocious resolve. He found her admirable. Apparently, so did the Colonel, who was regarding the teenage girl in silent reverence.

"The Colony Uprising was a resounding protest against oppression, exploitation, corruption and a servile existence," Colonel Zechs finally explained; "The Colonists wished to free themselves from foreign occupation and humiliations heaped upon all those who dared to think that they had a right to resist. It was a noble cause to fight for. The CLO was initially about freedom, but it never stood a chance."

"Why not?" Heero asked, upset by the troubling claim.

The Colonel turned to him slowly and looked at him quietly for a moment, as if to hint that he expected him to know the answer to that question. Suddenly, Heero felt very naïve; stupid. He really should have been paying more attention to the war raging everywhere around him; he just never felt the need. He was free to live in ignorance, telling himself that he wasn't involved. The war never concerned him because he had no role, no influence, in the grand scheme of things. Now, however, he was knee-high in this sticky swamp. He should learn as much as he could, and fast – before he drowns.

"An autonomous and democratic space was never the intention of either party," Merquise finally decided to answer his question instead of staring at him in wordless criticism. "Such utopia would have been a poor habitat for the survival of the parasitical Earth regimes and putrid industrialists from both sides. For decades these organizations eradicated any possibility for the development of civic institutions that could cultivate and nurture the growth of civic values in space. These regimes cannot afford to rule over citizens, they can only rule over _slaves_. So now, instead of freedom and human rights, all of the focus is on fighting Colony terrorism and maintaining stability and security in space and on Earth.

"Like your friend her said, this war is about fighting for the status quo of those in power, nothing more. And that is why what once was a simple dream that breathed life into the hope-starved spirits of so many space-dwellers, has turned into this madness. The Colonies turned to violence, and the Earth responded in kind as self-defense."

"Only because both sides are being brainwashed!" Relena asserted starkly. "People are out there dying for a cause someone sold them with cheap words and propaganda!

"Just like Europe once fell for vicious Nazi propaganda and actively supported the genocide of six million Jews... just like the Arab world passively succumbed to an evil like ISIS who sought to eliminate all Muslim and non-Muslim minorities from the Middle East... people are now being willfully manipulated by Romefeller and OZ! Just like so many times before, they are foolishly allowing themselves to be played one off against another.

"We achieved so much, came so far since the days of Nazi Europe and ISIS' Middle East, and yet here we are again, willing to throw it all away because someone told us that our way of life is being threatened even though it isn't true. We could have kept the peace, we could have squashed these few voices while they were still small, still harmless, yet we chose to listen and now there's chaos everywhere."

"This isn't chaos," Zechs argued, "This is war. The overall goal might be misleading, but people as individuals are fighting for a cause they believe in, they are trying to do what's just."

"There's no such thing as a _just war,_ because each side believes that it is the just one!" Relena exclaimed; "Even if one side's resort to violence might provide peace in the long run, people on both sides will always think they are on that just side, because of the other side's propaganda. It's an endless loop! Won't it be safer for both sides to just _oppose_ war despite both believing that they are on the side which should resort to violence?"

"Now who's being naïve?" Zechs rebuked, amused. "But you're not the only one," he added calmly; "King Peacecraft of the Sanc Kingdom, once tried to promote Absolute Pacifism," the Colonel informed her, studying her reaction carefully.

Relena glowered at the tall man in distrust. "King Peacecraft, you say?" She asked cautiously, trying to fake ignorance. The Colonel smirked; obviously not buying it.

"Yes," he confirmed, smiling knowingly; "Together with Heero Yuy, the former leader of the Colonies, he tried to convince the world of their naïve point of view. They believed that human life is so valuable, that one should never be killed and war should never be conducted, even in self-defense. Such a principle is impossible to abide by consistently, especially when violence is not available as a tool to aid a person who is being harmed."

"You're talking about a paradox," Heero deduced and Col. Merquise nodded.

"That's right," he said; "Following such logic, one could say that everyone has rights and corresponding responsibilities not to violate others' rights. Since pacifists give up their ability to protect themselves from violation of their right not to be harmed, then other people thus have no corresponding responsibility, therefore creating a paradox of rights." He turned to Relena, smirking victoriously. "Rational persuasion is all good and well, _Princess_, but often an inadequate method of discouraging an aggressor. Everyone has the right to use any means necessary to prevent deprivation of their civil liberties, and more often than not force is necessary to guard that right." [[4]]

Relena stared at the Colonel in shock, bowled over now that he confirmed that he knew exactly who she was. Heero studied her face carefully. He had warned her that OZ knew about her true identity, but it seemed that only now it finally occurred to her that she was in over her head. Since a cat has gotten her tongue, Heero turned to Merquise and asked in her stead:

"And that, in your eyes, is what gives this war meaning?"

The man turned to him, nodding gravely. "Unless we fight, no one will learn how foolish fighting really is. We must make all of mankind realize this destructive paradox. It's the only way to break the cycle."

"A war to end all wars?" Relena found her voice again, scoffing skeptically. "Are you saying that this war, this _grossly pathetic_ war, will lead us all to Absolute Pacifism?"

Zechs turned to her slowly. "That's right."

"You're wrong!" She burst; "Peace is not something that one can achieve through war! Using force to prevent further acts of violence is absurd! Reducing the _net-sum_ of violence is not enough! You can't justify a morally objectionable action with a positive outcome! It doesn't make it any less atrocious!"

"It's fighting that will save us," the Colonel insisted; "It is human nature to fight. It is our most basic, primal, form of existence – the purest thing there is."

"No, it's not," Relena argued; "When people feel secure with their livelihood, when they know they can live in peace and make their daily bread, then there is no reason for them to fight. Human nature isn't to fight, it is to protect. When people do go to battle in masses, it's only to preserve their way of life, but why should it even be threatened? What possible reason was there to stir up a fight when we can find ways to restore peace and keep people comfortable?"

This time, it was Heero who answered her question: "Because being comfortable doesn't necessarily mean you're free," he determined. "You can bury your head in the sand and live your life as though nothing concerns you, but that doesn't mean all is right with the world. That's the paradox. If we have the right to live comfortably in peace, then we also have an obligation to make sure others can do the same. Just because you're safe in your little corner of the world doesn't make it right to look the other way."

The Colonel smiled slightly at the boy's insight. "Precisely," he agreed, turning to Relena. "And that is why I fight," he concluded. "Now, if you're done debating war and peace, why won't you start telling me what I need to know?" He demanded, turning to Heero. "What is your connection to the Gundams?" He asked and turned to Relena as well. "What do you know?"

"I know enough to keep my mouth shut about them," the girl replied nastily, glaring up at the tall blonde man. "That's all."

Pressing his lips together in annoyance, the Colonel then turned to Heero again, expecting an answer. The boy simply shrugged at him carelessly.

"I already told you – all I know about them is how to build model kits."

"Don't get cocky with me, boy," Zechs warned, "I went easy on you once, but that was before you teamed up with this girl to kill my commander. It would be wise of you to cooperate this time."

Heero was about to open his mouth to retort, but suddenly the whole room shook strongly. An explosion echoed in the distance. Alarms blared loudly, and the door was flung open.

"Sir!" one of the guards entered the room in a panic, "We're under attack! It's Zero Two, sir! It came out of nowhere!"

"What?!" Zechs exclaimed, whirling back around to look at the two teens as if holding them responsible.

Heero and Relena exchanged a nervous look.

"Commander Une needs you on deck!" The young soldier continued breathlessly and nodded hurriedly at the two adolescences sitting tied to their chairs. "She says bring the kids."

* * *

Two armed guards escorted them to the main deck, urging them forward at gunpoint. Colonel Merquise marched ahead of them, his stride brisk and livid. All around them soldiers were running up and down narrow metal hallways, heading to their battle stations. Red sirens flashed in every corridor and the alarm still blared loudly in the background. Every now and then, the ship shook, sending them tumbling against the walls.

"Keep moving!" The soldiers behind them shouted, poking their backs with their rifles. Heero helped Relena up after they were thrust against the wall. He took her hand in his, and the two locked gazes for a short moment. He looked at her tensely, trying to assure her that she was not alone in this mess. Her lips curled up slightly with a sad little smile. She nodded, accepting his reassurance, and pushed away from the wall. Heero held her hand tightly as they continued walking towards the narrow staircase leading out to the flight deck.

Relena's flared white dress billowed widely with the wind the moment they stepped outside. Heero's white dress shirt quickly soaked with rain, the cold fabric clinging to his well-toned torso. He was too preoccupied to notice the nuisance. His mind was set solely on the scene revealed before him: total chaos.

Rain was pouring down hard. MS pilots and technicians ran left and right across the busy flight deck. Mobile suits were being dispatched as others landed in blackened heaps of smoking metal. Up in the night's sky, an MS battle was taking place. A terrifying MS of black and glowing green was mascaraing a battalion of inferior Leos and Aries suits sent up to fight it. Explosions bombarded the air, painting the black skies like a display of fireworks as one MS after the other was obliterated by the grisly Gundam.

Heero let go of Relena's hand. He stared up at the hypnotic sight in awe, rain washing over his face and wide blue eyes, yet he was too mesmerized to notice. He wasn't even aware of the gun poking his back, urging him to step further onto the flight deck. He was completely enthralled with the battle up above, walking moonstruck.

Following Colonel Merquise, the guards brought the two teenagers to where Commander Une was standing next to a group of soldiers, commanding the battle by barking out orders everywhere, pointing left and right to emphasize each command.

Zechs turned to Une, saluting briefly. "Let me use Tallgeese," he urged her; "it's the only suit capable of matching that thing."

Une ignored him, her harsh eyes set on Heero. "That won't be necessary," she snapped irately and flung her hand up to grab Heero by his tie, yanking the boy forward forcefully.

"With me, _boy_," she hissed and dragged him along with her towards the runway.

"Heero!" Relena called out in fright, ready to leap forward, but Zechs placed his arm in front of her, stopping the girl. She turned her head up to glower at him hatefully, but he just shook his head as though to tell her _"please don't"_. She didn't know what to make of it, but she stayed back, looking ahead worriedly at where Une was taking Heero with her towards an empty clearing on the chaotic runway. There, she stopped, pulling a gun out as she turned around swiftly, fixing her aim on Heero's forehead at point-blank range.

"No!" Relena shouted, panicked, taking an anxious step forward. Again Zechs stopped her, this time without turning his eyes away from Une. Helpless, Relena remained standing by the Colonel, looking anxiously at what was happening on the runway.

Standing rigidly in front of Une, her gun aimed at the center of his forehead, Heero glared at the taller woman, his fists clenched at the sides of his body. His mind raced, trying to figure out whether she was bluffing or really about to execute him. He had a feeling that it was the former. A strong sense of visceral conviction assured him that he will not die here, not like this; not before straightening things up with his dad, not before he had some answers.

Everything seemed to hold still. The sounds of battle no longer bombarded the air. Explosions ceased to split the darkness with bright flashes. Only the sharp whistling of jet engines vibrated through the rainy night; it was getting closer, preparing for landing. Something massive was slowly descending behind him, as silent as a ghost. He couldn't see it because he was facing Une and the barrel of her gun, but he could feel its ominous presence. The eerie silence of something so immense was dreadfully familiar; he had sensed it before, once upon a foggy night while riding his bike home. He closed his eyes, picturing the pair of two frightening glowing green eyes that were staring at his back at that very moment.

"Gundam pilot!" Lady Une shouted over his shoulder, looking ahead at the colossal presence behind him; "Surrender or I kill this boy!"

Nothing happened; not a sound nor movement.

"I know who you are," Une snarled at the unmoving Gundam, "and I know you won't let me pull the trigger on this boy."

Heero frowned, confused.

Relena watched the scene anxiously, her white dress fluttering strongly. She held Heero's black blazer against her chest tightly, looking at her friend worriedly. Next to her, Zechs stood tensely, looking at the large black Gundam crouching on the flight deck, its menacing green eyes pointed at Lady Une and her capture.

Rain continued plummeting from the heavens, washing down in currents over the Gundam's sleek metallic hull.

Finally, the Gundam powered down; the low hum of its various mechanisms fading out and the green glow in its slanted eye dimming until gone. The cockpit door opened with a hiss of air releasing, and out jumped the pilot, landing on the wet flight deck. He was wearing a black flight suit and a helmet with a dark visor concealing his face. The pilot stood still, raising his hands up slowly in surrender. He was looking in Une's direction.

Lady Une snarled victoriously and quickly grabbed Heero, whirling him around and forcing him down on his knees as she pressed him against her by wrapping one arm around his neck. She aimed the gun to his temple with her other hand.

Now facing the Gundam kneeling on the flight deck, projector lights aimed at it from every direction, Heero stared, wide eyed, as he got a first good look at the intimidating mobile suit. Its design was stunning, bearing a striking resemblance to a fearsome samurai in a black armor. Its golden rib-like chest-plates reminded Heero of a skeleton, and its formidable spiking black shoulder pads brought to mind the wings of a bat. The demonic mobile suit was an awe-inspiring representation of death itself, but it seemed to be in pretty bad shape. One of its original arms was missing, replaced by what looked like a Leo's arm, and at a closer look he could see that a few more parts and plates didn't quite match the overall design. The abysmal Gundam was patched together like some freakish metal Frankenstein.

The Gundam pilot, still holding his hands up, began to slowly approach the two. Seeing this, a few soldiers hurried to Une's side, weapons drawn. Zechs joined them, and Relena followed hesitantly, her eyes glancing nervously at the tremendous Gundam as she walked. Merquise took a stand next to his commander, looking at the pilot tensely. It didn't take him long to note that the person heading towards them was taller and more well-built than expected.

"You're much older than the others," he observed, speaking to the pilot. The man, whose face was still concealed behind the dark helmet, turned to Zechs and slowly lowered his hands down. The soldiers around them all fixed their aim readily.

"Are we to assume that you're their leader?" Zechs asked with a cool composure.

The pilot sniggered, a short, rude snort, and placed both hands at each side of his helmet.

"Yeah, right," he grumbled, turning the helmet to unfasten it from the metallic ring around his neck.

Hearing the man's voice, Heero's face paled. He was still being held by Une, her arm wrapped tightly around his neck. He stared shockingly at the pilot as he slowly lifted his helmet...

"I can barely keep tabs on _one_ fifteen year-old," the pilot continued casually and took the black helmet off. A long braid fell from it, slapping against his back. "How can I possibly keep track of _five_ renegade teens?" The pilot concluded, his smirking face now completely revealed – the smirking face of one Duo Maxwell, 35.

"_Dad?!_" Heero gasped, gawking at the man's face in disbelief. Relena seemed staggered as well, but the two OZ officers weren't the least bit surprised.

Duo turned to his son with a sly smile. "So this is where you went off to..." he admonished in a mock-stern tone; "You're in deep trouble, mister!"

"Enough of this!" Une shouted, but Duo ignored her.

"I think I'll start by grounding you for the rest of your life," he told Heero, not the least bit concerned by the array of weapons pointed at him, or at his son.

Heero was speechless; all he could do was gape dumbly at his father the... _Gundam pilot?_

"You really didn't know, did you?" Zechs smirked at the stunned teenage boy. "You're even more naïve than I thought."

"Arrest him!" Une snapped, throwing Heero aside as she whirled towards Duo and pointed her gun at him.

The soldiers flanking them prepared to sprint into action. All of a sudden, the Gundam powered back up; green lights flashing menacingly and the hum of its engines picking up at an alarming rate.

"There's someone else inside!" Zechs realized, but it was too late. Using the element of surprise, the Gundam flung its enormous metal hand towards the group. In a split of a second, soldiers scattered away cowardly, Une and Zechs leapt aside and Duo grabbed both teenagers by their arms, yanking them towards him quickly.

The clawed hand came down over them, caging Duo and the two teens inside. Duo reached up, grapping hold onto something, and just like that the Gundam swept the three away, taking off into the night.

Watching the scene on a surveillance screen inside a dark room deep within the ship, the young green-eyed OZ cadet that approached Heero in the brig the first time he was on the ship, spoke into the headset microphone he was wearing:

"I think you better come out here," he told whoever was on the other side of the line; "you're going to want to see this for yourself. It's worse than we thought."

* * *

**To be continued in Act Three...**

**Author's Note:** I'm afraid that it might be a while before I post more of this story, since I want to have at least a few chapters written in Act Three before I start posting it. I don't feel comfortable posting before the whole outline is finished, because then I can't go back and change things if needed. Hopefully, I will find the time to write everything down quickly so I can resume posting soon.

I have great plans for the final act of the story, so if you've enjoyed it so far I promise you that Act Three will be worth the wait! :-)

Sincerely,

Elle

* * *

[1] Referencing one of my absolute favorites: Flamika's _fantastic_ fanfic from her "Domestic Arc", "Heart of Glass".

[2] Yes, here's episode 11 again...

[3] This conversation is based on episode 46 "Millardo's Decision", where Heero, Relena and Zechs discuss the meaning of the war between the Earth and the Colonies.

[4] Referencing Narveson J., January 1965. "Pacifism: A Philosophical Analysis." _Ethics_, LXXV: 4, pp 259-271.


	20. Act Three - Part 1

**Author's Note:** Thanks to a blissful burst of creativity, I was able to complete half of Act Three already, so I'm beginning to post chapters, as promised. Your feedback is always appreciated.

Elle

* * *

**Paradox**

**Act Three**

**Part 1**

**October 23, AC 195, 0236 hours. **

**Somewhere deep within OZ's Lunar Base...**

The sound of keyboard keys clicking rapidly echoed dimly within the metal walls of a large diagnostic computer lab deep within OZ's Lunar Base. Three old men in white lab coats stood behind a computer console desk, looking intently at the screens. In front of the desk, sat a blonde teenage boy, his eyes closed and his head bowed down. Cables and electrodes connected to his scalp were wired to the diagnostics console. A group of at least half a dozen OZ soldiers surrounded the boy and three men. They weren't armed; they appeared to be harmless, simply observing the test curiously.

"Good," one of the scientists, a tall and slender old man with a fake nose known as Doctor S, determined while studying the screen in front of him. "His brain waves haven't been affected." [[1]]

The blonde boy, known to the soldiers surrounding him as Gundam pilot 04, and to his comrades as Quatre R. Winner, opened his eyes and turned to the man. "What's this test supposed to determine?" He asked.

"We're checking how the cockpit system of Wing ZERO influences the pilot's brain waves," another scientist, a large and beefy man calling himself Master O, explained.

"There's no problem!" The third, a short and chubby fellow with a pointy mustache going under Instructor H, exclaimed in annoyance. "The system is flawless! It wasn't a mechanical failure that caused your rampage," he scowled at the boy.

Meanwhile, at the other side of the lab, two more scientists sat back-to-back by opposite computer desks, working the consoles – Doctor J and Professor G. Heero was standing leaning against the wall between the two stations, his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed in a simple pair of shorts and a tank top. He kept his eyes closed and his head bowed low as he listened to the sounds of persistent clicking and clacking filling the metallic hall.

The left side of the boy's face was badly bruised, where an Ozzie had hit him with the back of his rifle when Quatre and he were brought back to the base a few hours ago. Quatre ran off towards the destroyed mobile suit piloted by Trowa Barton. Heero had bought the blonde pilot some time to grieve by knocking down their two guards, which earned him a rifle's buttstock in the face. The powerful strike had blown him a few feet across the hangar, leaving him lying dazed on the floor for a good long while. Now, the entire left side of his face was bruised and swollen, not to mention the splitting headache. It was easier to keep his eyes closed. After three weeks in OZ captivity, being forced to test their new MS and fight for the bastards, the young Gundam pilot was beyond exhaustion.

"A decision was made by the Romefeller Foundation to confine Treize Khushrenada," Dr. J spoke while he worked. He was briefing his subordinate on what's been happening while Heero was out of commission. The boy kept his eyes closed, though he was listening attentively.

"And as a result," the old man continued, "OZ's forces have split into two factions. We are now in the pleasant company of former Ozzies calling themselves the Treize Faction."

"Lady Une has been shot," Professor G joined the briefing; "It hasn't been confirmed whether she's dead or alive, but she is regarded as an offender by the Romefeller Foundation now."

"The other two pilots," J continued, "Duo Maxwell and Wufei Chang, escaped during the internal unrest on the base. However both of their Gundams are still only 80% complete."

"Only minor adjustments are needed to complete them," G elaborated, "With a little time those two pilots should be able to finish the Gundams on their own."

Heero raised his head up to face his commander, opening his eyes. He looked sharply at Dr. J, and asked tensely: "How about Trowa Barton?"

Over at the other side of the room, Instructor H removed the electrodes from around Quatre's head. The blonde pilot spun around to look anxiously at Dr. J and Prof. G.

"He's been missing in action since the Vayeate was destroyed," Dr. J answered grimly, never looking up from his screen. "Probably dead."

Professor G turned to look over his shoulder, glaring at Quatre. "The possibility of his survival is quite low," he scolded. "Our force has been diminished, but there's nothing we can do about that," he muttered.

Both scientists turned to look at Heero.

"And that's the present situation we're in," Dr. J concluded. "Did you get all that, Heero?"

"Understood, sir," Heero confirmed, still standing tensely against the wall with his arms over his chest.

"Good," J said and turned back to his console.

"Now," G spoke up, "I'll explain the Treize Faction occupying this base."

"Wait a minute!" Quatre exclaimed as he ran towards the three. "Please look into Trowa Barton's whereabouts! I know he's alive! There are a lot of colonies in that area! I know he'll be able to make it though, I just _know_ it!"

Professor G turned to smirk at the boy in mild amusement. "That's some personality," he remarked sarcastically.

Doctor J turned to Quatre as well, scowling at the boy in disdain. "A little questionable for a soldier though, wouldn't you say?"

"That's why the Gundam ZERO ended up in the hands of the enemy," Instructor H, Quatre's mentor, accused harshly as the three other scientists approached Quatre from behind, "even with that system installed."

Quatre whirled around to face him, shocked. "What?"

"The system has a device which amplifies and controls brain waves associated with fighting," the man explained, "It broadens one's consciousness immensely and brings about battle results greater than the pilot's normal skills can achieve on their own."

"It would have been all right if the pilot saw OZ as the enemy," Doctor S clarified further, "But the mind-warping side-effects of the system caused a target error."

"The fact that the pilot was incomplete as a soldier," J added in dismay, "resulted in his attacking his very own allies! Extremely regrettable."

"Especially considering that with the combined power of the Vayeate, the Mercurius and the new Gundam, the Lunar Base could have been demolished all at once," added G in disappointment.

"Because of the training you five have undergone," Master O said, "your physical power and tactical imagination in the art of war are no less than perfect. But we find that as soldiers you're mentally _far_ from perfect. This latest incident has brought that flaw out into the open."

Heero glared at the man in response to his accusation. Quatre merely gaped at him, perplexed.

"You must become the perfect soldiers!" Dr. J declared firmly, "Otherwise, you won't survive the golden age of the Mobile Dolls. Or, if you'd rather, go insane! That's what wars do to people!" He laughed gruffly.

Quatre looked away uneasily, guilt shining in his aquamarine-blue eyes.

"Then again," J continued humorously, "being insane would mean that you are not fit to pilot, whereas being fit to pilot unavoidably necessitates being insane... This Catch-22 is one of the many paradoxes of war."

"Catch 22?" Heero frowned at the odd reference.

"A type of unsolvable logic puzzle," J elucidated; "Catch-22 was a paradoxical plot device used in a very old novel, where a set of contradictory requirements whereby pilots mentally unfit to fly didn't have to, but couldn't actually be excused. People who were crazy were not obliged to fly missions; but anyone who applied to stop flying was showing a rational concern for their safety, and thus was sane. That's the catch. It's a paradox you must solve if you ever hope to master the ZERO Gundam and defeat the Mobile Dolls. They, unlike you, do not concern themselves with trivial matters such as _sanity_." He laughed again, shaking his head as he turned back to his work.

Heero seemed annoyed by J's ill-timed references and hinted puns at his expense. He pushed off the wall with his foot and stood rigidly before the old man's chair, his hands no longer crossed over his chest, but stretched at his sides, fists clenched. "Permission to be dismissed," he requested, staring ahead blankly.

Dr. J turned to examine his _"perfect soldier"_, regarding him coldly for a tense moment as he took note of his badly bruised face, the dark stains of fatigue under his eyes and the ashen color of his hollow cheeks.

"Hmm," he let out broodingly, displeased. "When was the last time you ate, soldier?"

"I don't recall, sir," Heero replied without making eye contact.

"And slept?"

"I don't recall that either, but I did lose consciousness during battle, sir."

"That hardly counts as proper rest," J grunted, sighing. "You're running on fumes," he observed with dismay. "Another unfortunate characteristic of the imperfect human soldier."

"Yes sir," Heero agreed mechanically.

"Go on, get some rest. And eat something first, for God's sake. You're dismissed."

"Yes, sir," Heero nodded curtly and turned to walk away.

"Heero," J stopped him and the boy tensed, shoulders pulling back rigidly. His back was facing J, as he had already began walking away.

"Sir?"

"Catch-22," J said, smirking at the boy's stiff backside; "Read it one day."

"Yes, sir..." Heero acknowledged, sighing the words out wearily. He resumed his departure.

J smiled sadly as he watched the boy shuffle away tiredly. "Suddenly I regret never demanding that he'd read the classics..." The old man sighed to himself.

* * *

A couple of hours later found Gundam pilot Heero Yuy sitting alone in a dark room, working on a large computer station. A metallic sport's bottle rested by the keyboard, along with a few empty foil-wrappers – ration bars. The monitor's dim greenish-blue light washed over the boy's pale and bruised face, making him appear sickly and weary, but the boy's sharp blue eyes remained extremely vigilant. He was studying surveillance footage from the base, taken at the time of the internal unrest between the OZ soldiers loyal to Romefeller and those who remained loyal to Treize.

Heero's eyes were focused on security footage taken at the lower decks, where the new models for Gundams 02 and 05 were hidden. He watched carefully as a swift shadow skidded across the hangar and climbed up into Deathscythe Hell's cockpit. He paused the image, zooming in closer, until he was looking at the very blurry and pixelated face of one he knew for certain was Duo Maxwell.

His lips curled up slightly in an unintentional smile of relief. Then, the automatic doors behind him slid open and he hurried to wipe the unwelcomed expression off his face and close the file-window quickly, uncovering the window beneath it – one with ZERO's schematics. He pretended to have been engrossed in the images while listening intently to the footsteps approaching him from behind. It took him a few seconds to realize that the soft footfalls belonged to Quatre. He relaxed somewhat, and continued to examine the blueprints, clicking on the keyboard to change the images.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Quatre asked as he came to stand next to Heero's chair.

"I am," Heero replied offhandedly while studying ZERO's diagrams.

The blonde smiled helplessly, accepting the answer. He stood next to Heero and watched the computer screen numbly, brooding in silence.

"What's your opinion of Wing ZERO's system?" Heero asked after a while, without looking up from the screen.

"I had no idea," the blonde pilot admitted guiltily. "I never knew the unit had been completed. I was focusing more on the large beam cannon and didn't pay as much attention to system installed in the cockpit."

"The beam cannon hasn't been retrieved yet," Heero said, looking over the blueprints carefully. "The main weapons right now are the beam saber and wing Vulcans on its shoulders."

Quatre stepped closer to Heero's chair, looking at the other pilot keenly. "You planning to fight, Heero?" He asked tensely.

Heero stopped typing and turned his chair to face Quatre, looking up at the other pilot.

"In either case we can't leave Gundam ZERO in enemy hands," he maintained. Unlike the scientists, his flat voice carried no accusation.

"Heero," Quatre opened dramatically, "I've been wondering who our allies are... and who our enemies are in this war." He bowed his head down regretfully. "I get confused thinking about it..."

"Quatre," Heero's eyes almost seemed sympathetic as he spoke the boy's name; their hard blue surface gleaming with something other than cold regard. Quatre raised his head to face him, his expression tense as though expecting a verdict.

"The ones after your life and the targets you aim to defeat are always the enemy," the Wing pilot stated bleakly; "It's as simple as that."

"Yeah, but what if you find out you're mistaken?" Quatre questioned, his voice shaking in turmoil. "What if you can't see beyond the immediate threat? What if you lose sight of whose side you're on when all you see is the person who is trying to kill you?"

"Quatre, we are not mistaken," Heero reaffirmed assertively; his bland tone firm and steady. "But it's possible that this war has gone nuts. The lines are blurred, which is why you have to stay focused on what's in front of you."

"I don't think it's that simple, Heero," the blonde boy sighed sadly. "This whole experience with ZERO... it opened my eyes... my mind... to so many other things. I can't explain it, but that thing... it's... unnatural. It's like... it _knows_ something. Like it can see beyond... everything. The very fabric of our existence, of time and space... the endless possibilities... they're all there in front of you and you have to make the right choice."

He looked at Heero through tearful blue eyes. "But how can you even choose when you witness so much? It's overwhelming. How do you know you're not mistaken and keep your focus when your consciousness is being stretched across time and space and everything expands until you can't contain any of it?"

"You focus on the one thing that never changes," Heero replied decisively. "The one thing you know is right."

Quatre looked at him in confusion.

"Your feelings," Heero clarified.

"My _feelings_?" Quatre echoed doubtfully.

Heero nodded to confirm. "You came out of that thing realizing how much you care about Trowa. You are now more adamant about those feelings than ever before. Your mind might have scattered across the whole universe, as you say, but you still found an anchor point in your feelings towards him. You might be confused about who your enemies are, but you shouldn't be confused about who your friends are. That's all you need to continue fighting."

"Is that how you fight, Heero?" Quatre asked miserably. "When you were out there, fighting against me, you weren't confused for a second. Is that because you classified me as an enemy? Is it really that simple for you to categorize and re-categorize everything as you see fit? An ally one moment, an enemy the next? Is that how you keep sane? What part do your emotions play in such a black-and-white existence? They are nothing but a big gray area. They have no room in the dichotomic world you're describing, where so much gray will drive you insane."

"Emotions are there to keep you focused on what matters, not to drive you insane," Heero reasoned.

"And what if it wasn't me?" Quatre insisted, "what if it was Trowa you were fighting? The person who nursed you back to health after Siberia. Would you have been able to fight him the same way you did me?"

Heero turned back to face the computer screen, gaping at it blankly as he thought the question over.

"What if it was _Duo_?" Quatre pushed further.

Heero's eyes narrowed warily into a deep scowl.

"Could you have just as easily classified Duo as an enemy?"

"He's of no consequence," Heero hurried to say.

"Is he really?" Quatre questioned, "You spent more time with him than any of us. In the very least, you consider him a reliable ally. Would you kill him if you had to?"

Heero stared vacantly at the screen, his eyes shimmering fervidly as he struggled with the question.

"It's not that easy, now is it?" Quatre observed. "Not so black and white anymore."

"I can't always follow my own advice," Heero mumbled quietly, gazing numbly at the monitor.

"Why not?" The blonde boy asked harshly; "What makes you think you can put yourself above everyone when it comes to right and wrong?"

"I am not above anyone," Heero replied calmly and turned to him, his expression blank. "If anything, I'm beneath you."

Quatre seemed confused. "What makes you say that?"

Heero was hesitant to say. "I'm not like you," he chose his words carefully. "Doctor J was after a perfect soldier. It's not as easy for me to be guided by my emotions. But I do know what's important to me, and I won't lose sight of that no matter what system is installed in the cockpit."

"I don't think it's that simple, Heero," Quatre sighed, looking away distressfully. "With ZERO... it's more complicated than that."

"How do you mean?"

"I saw something..." Quatre mumbled, still gazing anxiously at the wall. "ZERO... showed me something."

"Showed you what?"

"I'm... not sure." He turned to Heero, his eyes shining in distress. "Do you think it's possible to see the future?"

"Quatre, I see that this Gundam still has you very confused. Only the present exists. It is impossible to see something that doesn't exist." [[2]]

"Is it? Maybe it just doesn't exist _yet_. How can you say that past and future don't exist, that there's only the present? You _do_ have a past, and for the moment you do have a future."

"I have possibilities for a future," Heero countered; "you couldn't have possibly seen them all."

"I saw _something_," Quatre insisted. "Doctor J said Lady Une was shot, but I saw something else. I don't know what it means, but for a moment it was like I was somewhere else, watching this pa—"

Suddenly, the lights went out. Heero shot up from his chair readily and the two exchanged a tense look.

"Members of the Treize Faction!" A male voice bombarded the base's PA system. "We've surrounded your hideout," it announced; "I must say I have some reservations about fighting against former comrades without first talking things over. I think we can avoid senseless bloodshed."

"We should go find J," Heero told Quatre.

The blonde boy nodded in agreement.

* * *

**October 23, AC 195, 0423 hours.**

**Somewhere above Block Island...**

Gundam Deathscythe hurtled through the dark skies in cloaking-mode. To any Coast Guard or naval ship in the area, it was nothing but a sporadic and unexplained ghost on their radar screen. It flew rapidly over raging black waters, cutting through the wind and rain without a sound. Its massive arms – one original, the other not – were clasped against its chest, disparate fingers entwined together to create a small protective cavity in which its three passengers could ride more or less safely.

Wind shrilled loudly as it gushed through the cracks of the Gundam's enormous fingers. It was freezing. Inside the hollow between the palms of Deathscythe's metal hands, Heero and Relena sat huddled together in one corner. Relena was clutching Heero's blazer close to her, shivering from the cold, her teeth chattering. Heero had wrapped his arm around her shoulders, trying to keep her warm, but the wind blew too strong. It tousled his messy bangs roughly; they smacked his face repeatedly, but still he glowered angrily through a mess of fluttering hair, glaring at his father who stood as far as possible as he could be inside the small makeshift-chamber, avoiding eye contact.

The grim-reaper-like Gundam landed on a deserted shore on the eastern coast of Block Island. It knelt down on the wet sand, sinking slightly into the ground due to its enormous weight. The rain had stopped and the night sky cleared, a waning crescent moon rising in the east, shining above water. In the distance, a naval battle was taking place: bright explosions flashing in the black night sky, their sound thundering dimly as it was carried by the wind.

Deathscythe released its passengers carefully, laying its hands open on the sand. Relena held onto one of its enormous fingers for balance as she climbed down cautiously. Once she was standing on steady ground, she turned to look at the horizon, where the battle blazed.

"What is this?" She asked worriedly.

Heero jumped off the Gundam as well, spinning around to face the rampant ocean. His fierce blue eyes observed the anarchy raging in the heart of the endless black, noting a new battleship in the area, attacking the OZ ship. Bright flashes reflected in his blue eyes as he watched the battle.

"That's the mighty hand of the US Navy doing what it should have done over a month ago," Duo replied solemnly as he too stepped off of the Gundam's open palms, jumping onto the sand.

"OZ has officially overstayed their welcome," he said, glaring at the two ships; "They'd be outta here soon. We're safe here, for now." He turned to look at his son, who was still glaring at the sea, refusing to look at him.

The Gundam powered down, metal creaking and groaning silently as it cooled. The cockpit door opened with a hiss of air and out jumped the second pilot, dressed in a similar getup to the one Duo was wearing, only he had already removed his helmet. Heero wasn't at all surprised to see that the person piloting the Gundam was the braided boy he had first met on the beach. Relena, however, gaped at the teenage pilot in shock, having realized why Heero was so upset after meeting the boy. The resemblance between him and Heero's father was uncanny!

"Evening all!" The boy greeted with a naughty grin as he approached the three. He turned to Heero, smirking. "That's _twice_ I saved your skinny ass," he taunted; "You owe me _big_."

Duo frowned at the two boys. "Have you two met?"

"On occasion," the braided boy admitted carelessly, shrugging. "I shoulda probably told you about that..."

"God!" Duo groaned, pushing his bangs up to indicate frustration. He turned to look at the ocean. His eyes narrowed agonizingly as he watched the battle blazing in the black horizon.

"You stupid _reckless _boy!" He then suddenly exploded, whirling around to face his son, blue eyes livid. "It's always the same with you – plunging headfirst into danger! If it weren't for you and your _stupid_ _girlfriend—_"

"You don't get to be mad!" Heero interjected heatedly, yelling back at top of his lungs. He was done giving his dad the silent treatment. He was so mad, he couldn't hold back anymore:

"You don't get to yell at me! You don't get to be my _father_ right now! Not when you've been lying to me all this time!"

"_Lying_ to you?!" Duo almost laughed the words out in disbelief.

"Yes!" Heero snapped back; "About your job... about your _kid!_ Our whole life together is a fucking _sham!_"

Hearing this, the braided boy chuckled. "Gee, _boy_ _genius_ here got it all figured out, doesn't he?" He mocked, speaking to the older Duo. The man ignored him. His eyes were solely on Heero.

"My _kid_?!" he exclaimed in aggravation, "He's not my _kid_, Heero – you are!"

"On paper, maybe," Heero retorted spitefully, "but blood is thicker than paper."

Duo was taken aback. He gaped at his son, bemused. "You think that he's my..." Duo never even considered the possibility that Heero might interpret things that way, but how could he not? It made much more sense than the truth.

"Heero," he said softly, assuming a calmer frontage as he attempted to pacify his teenage son. "This boy here is _not_ my son. He's... he's _me_. He's me twenty years ago... don't you get it?"

"Huh?!" Heero let out, frowning.

"I think the exclamation you're looking for here is: Great Scott!" The braided boy joked. [[3]]

Duo sent him a sharp reprimanding glare. Heero stared dumbly at the boy, stunned that he knew the reference.

"What?" The younger Duo shrugged his shoulders innocently. "I was cooped up in that hangar for _five weeks_. I had nothing better to do than help myself to a few of your silly old movies. Awesome collection, by the way. _Loved_ that Terminator shit. Really shed some light my situation..."

"Really?" Heero marveled, distracted for a moment by the precious opportunity to share his outdated and unusual passion with someone else; "I thought that the fifth movie totally sucked..."

"Yeah, but that Emilia Clarke chick was really hot."

"Are you guys seriously debating movies now?" Relena finally stepped into the conversation, scowling at the two. "He's talking about _time travel_ – for real!"

"There's no such thing as time travel," Heero determined firmly, turning to glower at his father. "You should come up with a better way to explain this," he warned. "I'm sick of lies."

"I'm not lying to you, Heero," his father tried to assure him; his expression tortured, desperate to fix the mess he had made. "I never have and never will."

"Yeah, it's sort of our motto," the other boy sniggered.

"Not _now_, Duo," the older man rebuked, sighing.

"Your name is also Duo?" Heero turned to the braided boy, frowning in confusion.

"Duh! That's what your old man is trying to tell you, _asshole_. He's me, I'm him... only he's _way_ past his prime and I ain't," he concluded, smirking.

"Watch it, Junior," Duo warned.

Heero spun slowly to face his father again, studying the man with wide blue eyes as though seeing him for the first time.

"Is this... true?"

"How can it be true?" Relena posed the next obvious question.

"It's a long story..." Duo mumbled, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot.

"But just to give you the highlights:" _Junior_ happily interjected, "Your idiot _dad _here went back in time to stop you from becoming a Gundam pilot and basically cost us this whole God damn war, 'cuz apparently you're this _big cheese_ or sumthin'... go figure."

"It's not like that!" His father protested. "You're telling it all wrong!"

Too stunned to react, Heero just stared numbly at his father, trying to process everything.

"Did OZ send you?" Relena asked, frowning warily at the man. "Was it some kind of plot to win the war?"

"No! God, no! I didn't... I... I did for Heero!"

"For me?" Heero snapped out of his daze, glowering at Duo. "Who gave you the right to change my future?!"

"I wasn't trying to _change_ your future, Heero!" Duo moaned miserably; "I was trying to _give_ you one. You died... I wanted you back. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I just... I wanted you back."

"That's the most selfish thing I ever heard!" Heero exploded in full-teenage fury, waving his arms angrily. He pinned Duo's gaze with a sharp, accusing glare. "Why risk everything just to get me back?!"

"Because he loves you," Relena realized, looking intensely at Duo. "That's the only reason anyone would do something so crazy."

"Love me how?" Heero asked innocently and then the answer occurred to him and he fell silent, his expression turning numb.

"Oh..." the younger Duo let out thoughtfully, and then grimaced, looking at his older counterpart dubiously; "_Really?_"

Duo looked away uncomfortably, turning to stare at his black boots against the sand. It hurt so much to hear his own voice doubt the love he has felt burning so strongly in his heart for decades, and he couldn't bear to look at his son right now. His boy was staring at him as though he had just discovered that he was living under the same roof with some despicable _child molester_.

"I didn't mean to go that far back," he tried to explain, kicking sand with the tip of his boot. "It just happened," he sighed, raising his head to look at his son with anguished blue eyes. "I wanted to save you... but I ended up saving you _way_ before I was supposed to."

"So... raising me... that was an accident," Heero deduced, speaking slowly as he struggled to understand all of this. "You didn't want to be my father."

"It wasn't an accident," Duo said softly; "Accidents are bad. It was simply a... surprise, and surprises are a good thing. I don't regret one second of it. I just... I never expected it, that's all."

"You didn't want me as a kid," Heero grasped, feeling wounded to his soul. "You wanted me as a... as... What the _FUCK_?!" He cried, perturbed and confused. "That's _SICK!_"

"Hey!" Duo barked; "Enough swearing, alright?! _Jesus!_ Look, I won't say it wasn't hard at first, but I got over it, okay? I don't look at you that way. I _never_ did, okay, so don't even _go_ there!"

Heero couldn't take it anymore, so he spun around abruptly, turning his back to his father. He looked at the sea, trying to simmering down. His heart was racing, his legs weak. This was too much.

Up in the near horizon, the US naval ship had chased the OZ cruiser away from the American maritime boundary. The battle was over and the endless black ocean seemed calm once again.

Heero reached his hand up slowly to his face, touching his bruised left temple where _Junior_ had hit him with his gun. His fingers hovered there for a second, his eyes pained, before he lowered his hand down, sighing. He spun around slowly to face his father again.

"So the battleship... the pilots... everything..." he mumbled dazedly, "It's all happening because of you?"

Relena, who's been observing their exchange quietly for the past few moments, turned inquisitively to the adult Duo.

"No, Heero," the man explained gently; "It's all about _you_. Everything is converging here because of you."

"Why?" The boy asked in a small, upset, voice. "Why me?"

"Because you're important, Heero," his father said;  
"Because you're supposed to do something _big_ and time is running out. The closer we get to this event, the more improbable things are going to happen to ensure that it plays out the way it's supposed to. Coincidences will continue go haywire around you." He gestured at Relena and his younger-self.

"I was trying to find a way outta this, but I failed." He bowed his head down sadly, sighing. "Time always strives to heal itself. It's the only way to avoid a paradox. Whatever happened, was meant to happen."

"Heh," Junior chuckled, "Kinda like Terminator," he joked, but no one was paying attention.

"If I was so damn _important_, then why take the risk and change my future?"

"It's... complicated," Duo mumbled, looking away uneasily. "All I meant to do was go back a few months, but the computer botched up the calculations and I ended up _twenty years_ before I was supposed to. I got to you just before you met the man who was supposed to make a Gundam pilot out of you."

"...the old man in the alley," Heero recalled vaguely.

Duo nodded; his eyes sad. "That man woulda brought you nothing but pain. I couldn't let you go through that again. I had to stop him from taking you."

"The old fart _is_ kind of a dick," Junior agreed, shaking his head in mock-disapproval. "Trust me, man – that other Heero was a total dick too. Couldn't see beyond his own fucking nose. Got him killed real fast." He laughed. "Man, they didn't see that one coming! _Perfect soldier_ my ass!"

Duo glowered at his younger-self angrily and the boy fell quiet, smiling apologetically.

"God rest his soul, of course," he mumbled, looking away. Again, the other two teens ignored him and kept their eyes on the older Duo.

"You must have known that going back could have dire consequences," Relena stressed forlornly.

"Yeah, 'f course I knew. This doctor I was working with on the case warned me how tricky time travel is, but..."

"Doctor who?" Junior asked, snickering, and they all turned to look at him sharply. "Oh come on!" he whined; "You're talking about _time travel_ and a _doctor_..." He turned to Heero. "You get it, right?" His eyes begged for someone to throw him a bone, but the other boy wasn't in a mood for jokes. Everyone was scowling at him.

"Never mind," the younger Duo sighed, shaking his head in mock-disappointment. "Tough crowd..." He muttered to himself and turned to examine his Gundam nonchalantly, leaving the three alone so they could finish their discussion. He'd already had it like a million times while arguing with his senior.

"_As I was saying_," Duo emphasized harshly while sending a quick glare towards his younger-self, "I never planned on doing it. I was trying to stop the people who wanted to mess with history, but I ended up in their little gizmo myself. I was sure I was gonna die in that thing. I had nothing to lose, and before I knew it, I was waking up in AC 188."

"Who wanted to mess with history?" Relena enquired.

"Romefeller," Duo said, looking at her tensely.

"God, they never quit, do they?" The girl moaned.

"They're a pretty persistent bunch, yeah," Duo agreed bitterly. "They lost the war, their power and wealth, and they wanted it back by any means."

"And thanks to you, they got what they wanted," Heero accused, glowering at the man reproachfully.

"Not necessarily," Duo argued. "There's still a chance that things will go down as they did before. They just need... a little push."

"So all this time you've been away... you've been fighting for the CLO?"

Duo nodded slowly to confirm, his eyes shining sorrowfully. "I'm trying to fix this," he explained in a pained voice, "so you won't have to. I refuse to accept that whatever has happened was meant to happen. History is not predestined. I can fix this!"

"You're attempting to alter events and create history as you know it," Relena determined.

"In a way," Duo verified. "You can change the future. It's like a stream that moves in one direction: you can create a new ripple in it, but you certainly don't change the current."

"You didn't create a ripple," Relena accused harshly, "you created a _tidal wave!_"

"What I did changed some things, but most of the current continued in the same direction. Most of the things I know still happened and they keep on happening, but with slight adjustments. I just need to work out the equation."

"You can't solve the same equation without the key variable and still get the same result!" Heero berated heatedly.

"Gee, aren't we full of ourselves..." Junior muttered, glaring at Heero detestably. "We don't need your _skinny ass_ to win this thing."

"I wasn't offering!"

"Well – good! Cuz you'll only get in da fuckin' way!"

"Yeah – the way to _nowhere!_ You guys are totally losing this campaign!"

"Are not!"

"Are to!"

"Are NOT!"

"Would you _kids_ be QUIET?!" Duo roared, fuming. "What the fuck is wrong with you two!?"

Silence fell. The two boys looked away ashamedly, both unable to explain the heated grudge between them.

After a while, Relena spoke again:

"But if what you're saying is true, and history _is_ trying to fix itself, then isn't it too late? If your return contradicts history, then your very presence here constitutes a paradox. How can you be allowed to be here?"

"Because we haven't reached the point in time when things change drastically," Duo explained; "History hasn't changed its course yet. Only the players changed, to some extent."

"So you're trying to preserve the bigger picture."

"Exactly."

"And if you fail?" Heero asked anxiously.

Pausing for a tense moment to look at his son, Duo said stiffly: "Then the Earth will be obliterated two months from now."

All three adolescents gaped at him in horror.

"Say what?" Junior gasped.

Relena was too horrified to speak.

Heero too froze, speechless.

Only Junior seemed to retain his ability to snap back angrily with words: "You knew you'd be sacrificing the _whole planet_ and you _still_ took the little brat in?!" He called heatedly, astounded. "Jesus fucking Christ! Even _I_ didn't know I could be this stupid!"

Relena turned to look at her friend, her blue eyes shimmering with countless emotions: shock, worry, pity, blame and sympathy all blending together into a heart-wrenching gaze. The girl was looking at him as though he was the harbinger of the apocalypse.

Upset beyond words, Heero took off, unable to take it anymore. He turned around and ran away, heading further down the beach.

Relena gave the boy's father this helpless, wretched, look, before she spun around and followed in Heero's wake.

Junior turned to his older-self. The man was watching his son's retreating figure with sorrowful eyes.

"Great kid," Junior muttered sarcastically.

"He is, actually, so shut da fuck up." Duo sighed heavily, tearing his eyes away from where Heero had gone.

"So like, he's supposed to be this _big love of my life _or sumthin'?" His younger-self ridiculed nastily. "_Gimme a break,_" he scoffed. "He like totally flips out when shit goes down. I ain't never gonna fall for no _skinny-ass_ _pussy_."

"You don't get it," Duo sighed, "And because of me, you never will. I'm sorry."

"Ch," the boy snorted insolently. "Da fuck you talkin' like you're all better than me?"

"I'm me after meeting him," Duo told the boy sadly. "And you... you're just... _me_. Don't fool yourself into thinking it's enough, because it never will be." And with that, the man walked past his ignorant younger-self, going after his son.

The younger Duo stayed behind, having no witty comebacks this time. He watched his older-self walk down the beach, and frowned thoughtfully.

* * *

Duo found his son sitting on a large rock formation a few hundred feet away from where Deathscythe had landed. There, the strand of beach narrowed to a couple of dozen feet separating the tall cliffs and the ocean. Rocks covered this area of the beach; some flat, smooth and wide, some tall, bulging and sharp. The ocean water puddled in small pools scattered across the rocky surface.

Heero sat on a bulky and smooth boulder facing the ocean. The ethereal moonlight washing over his white dress shirt distinguished him from the otherwise dark terrain. Relena was sitting next to him, her white dress just as bright in the ghostly blue light, fluttering with the breeze. The two didn't seem to be engaged in conversation. They were sitting more or less back-to-back. Heero was throwing small rocks into the water, watching them disappear in the deeps. Relena just sat there, gazing at the enormous cliffs thoughtfully, offering quiet moral support. When she saw Duo approach, she stood up, looking at the man guiltily. She was wearing Heero's blazer around her shoulders.

"Can you give us a minute?" Duo asked of her. She nodded quietly and left, clutching Heero's jacket close to her chest. Duo settled on the rock next to Heero. The boy ignored him; he continued throwing rocks into the water. Duo didn't say anything, giving him time.

The waves hustled quietly around them, washing back and forth across the rocks. Duo gawked at the water numbly, observing how the pale moonlight gleamed faintly on each wave.

"Were you... like..?" His son's quiet and hesitant voice tore Duo from his pensive staring. He turned to Heero slowly; they were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, but not touching. The boy still wouldn't look at his father; he was gazing ahead at the black horizon with a tortured expression.

"Were we together, like..?" The boy sighed. "I mean..." he tried to clarify, struggling with his words; "am I..? But I... I like..." He trailed off, shaking his head. He closed his eyes briefly as he tried to find a way to say what was troubling him. He thought about Relena, about all those times when she caught him looking at her body, and all those times she didn't... All those nights he had jerked off thinking about her smooth white thigh peeking behind the fabric of her skimpy little dress... How could he be..?

He spun around to face his father, his blue eyes reflecting his inner-turmoil.

"Am I gay?" He asked anxiously.

Duo regarded the boy quietly for a moment. He didn't expect Heero to be struggling with this issue – surely, he had bigger things to deal with right now – but then again, he could understand how a fifteen-year-old boy's world could be thrown off its axis by the realization that he might be a homosexual. After all, he's been there himself once.

"I don't know," he said slowly, "Are you?"

"I don't know!" Heero snapped peevishly; "Are _you_?"

"Yes." It was a very plain, very honest answer, and Heero was stumped. He stared at his dad in a stupor, thinking back on all those crappy dates his dad used to go on, and how he never brought a lady home once. _"The Eternal Bachelor"_ his friends called him...

"That sure explains some things..." he mumbled and turned back to watch the waves crash against the rocky pools below.

"So that other me... was he gay too?"

"I don't really know," Duo confessed. "I always figured he swung both ways... but I never asked. Didn't want to know the answer, I guess." He took a deep breath, popping his shoulders back to attempt a sturdier bravado, trying to act like a father and soothe his son's fears and doubts. He looked at Heero warmly, trying to reassure the boy that he was speaking the truth:

"Look, Heero, a person's sexuality depends on a lot of things. It isn't necessarily predetermined. In some cases, maybe, but what really sets the tone are your personal experiences. And I can assure you that your experiences differ _greatly_ from his, at least from when you were eight, so it's safe to say that you developed your own taste, for your own reasons."

Heero winced, turning to gaze at the sea again. He had this sick feeling that he was hurting his dad's feelings with all of this. Duo was trying to make it look like he was cool with everything, but Heero couldn't help but feel that he'd be hurting his father, disappointing him in some way, if he told him that he liked Relena. His dad seemed to catch on that somehow, because he smiled warmly and placed his hand on Heero's shoulder gently.

"It's okay if you like her," Duo assured his son. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, far from it. She's awesome, really. Take it from a guy who's seen what she can do. You don't have to worry about what I might think or anything like that." Those were words Duo never thought he'd say to Heero, but he was speaking to him as a father, not as a jealous lover. Those words were genuine; they came from a kind of love that could never be envious or bitter.

"I understand," Duo promised; "It's okay. I'm happy for you, really."

"There's nothing to be happy about," Heero mumbled uneasily, feeling awkward to be talking about _girls_ with his father for the first time. This was _way_ worse than that time when he was ten and Duo tried to teach him about _"the birds and the bees"_, getting all flustered before he told his dad that he already knew – he'd seen it on TV. He'd never forget the relief on Duo's face...

"How come?" Duo asked with interest.

"I'm totally locked in the _Friend Zone,_" Heero grumbled, upset. "She's more focused on saving the world and stuff. She doesn't have time for something silly like a _boyfriend_."

Duo burst out laughing and Heero was exasperated. He spun around to glare at Duo offensively.

"It's not funny!"

"Yeah, but—" Duo struggled to contain his giggles; "—the irony is killing me!"

"_Stop laughing!_" Heero grunted; "Dad!"

"I'm trying!" his father called out breathlessly, laughing so hard he was crying; "but you have _no idea_ how funny this is!"

"You're an _asshole_," Heero muttered petulantly and turned to glower at the sea, pouting angrily. "I ain't gonna talk to you about this stuff _ever again!_"

"I'm sorry!" Duo was still laughing; "I'll stop! I'll stop..." he said, inhaling deeply so he could even his breath, calming down. He turned to look at the sea as well, smiling wistfully. God, he needed that.

Father and son sat quietly for a while, gazing at the sea. The crescent moon has traveled higher in the dark heavens, casting soft light over the calm black ocean. In this late predawn hour, the Morning Star began to rise near the eastern horizon. Duo gazed thoughtfully at the brightly twinkling star.

"Was he..." Heero finally spoke again, trying to find the right words. "Are we very different?" asked carefully, keeping his eyes on the waves crashing onto the rocks at his feet.

"In many ways, yes," his dad answered frankly; "But you're also very similar." He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of unease, sighing deeply. "To be honest, I never thought I'd be having this conversation with you... talking about him. It's hard," he confessed, looking sadly at the massive black ocean stretching before them. "I've come to see you as two different people, who happen to look alike, and sometimes act alike, but... It's really important that I keep the two of you apart, do you understand?"

Heero nodded slowly. He was feeling pretty awkward about this too. "I think so, yeah."

"I'm not really comfortable talking about him, but if you want, I'll answer any questions you might have." Duo smiled wretchedly at his son. "Our first adult conversation. Man to man," he joked miserably, feeling heavy inside. This was too soon; it was too soon to watch his son grow up, but he was helpless to stop it, as all parents were.

Heero smiled awkwardly, looking away because he too was embarrassed. It felt so weird to be talking to his dad as an equal. Not so long ago they were the typical father and son, bickering over trivial matters like staying out late or whatever. He was used to Duo laying his laws down sternly as the sole authority, not opening himself up for a mature discussion. A part of him felt a pang of sorrow for the loss; the official end of his childhood and entering into adulthood. It felt like it was a little too soon, too fast. He had only just regained his childhood, merely seven years ago, and now it was time to let it go. Seven years were not enough. Most people had more. He wished he could linger there for a while longer, but there was no going back now. It was time to grow up, again.

His dad was still waiting for him to ask a question. He tried to think of one, gazing thoughtfully at the ocean. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what the other (real?) him was like. What if he was better? What if Duo would rather have the previous him back than continue being his dad? What if Duo had settled for him as the next best thing?

The man had changed history for that other Heero. Clearly, Duo loved him in an impossible way. He had changed the past to be with him again as a lover, but he ended up having him as a child and was forced to love him in a whole different way. It was a tragic paradox. Duo went back for the man he loved, only to replace his life's experiences and create a different person who was fundamentally the same, but not. So the love Duo had for him... was it the same? Was it just as strong? Did Duo love two people, or one? [[4]]

If two – which Heero did he love more? Was one more important than the other? If Duo had to choose, which one will he pick? Was it childish that he wanted his father to love him and only him, above all else? How could it be childish? If his father didn't love him more than anyone else, then who will? Who other than Duo could ever love him so unconditionally? Duo had to love _him_, not the other Heero, but _him_!

If one – how could Duo compromise between loving a man and loving a child in the same person? Did Duo always compare him to the other Heero? Was he disappointed in him when he didn't match up to the previous Heero? Would he rather have the original one over him? People always favored the original... was he second-best in Duo's eyes? A consolation prize for his efforts to win back the original Heero?

"It's okay," his dad assured him, still waiting for him to raise a question. "You can ask me anything."

"I don't want to know," Heero lied, looking away to hide his troubled face.

Duo seemed confused. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure!" Heero retorted stubbornly; "So just _drop it_, okay?!"

An awkward silence fell. Sighing, Duo turned to look at the sea again, his pensive eyes falling on the Morning Star glimmering in the horizon.

"You know," he said quietly, "people first thought that the Morning and Evening Stars are two separate things," he gestured at the bright star with his head; "but later they realized it was the same star – the planet Venus appearing before the sun in the east and marking the end of the day in the west. One star, two different names, two different functions, but that doesn't change the fact that the Morning Star and the Evening Star are one of the same. They might be two things by definition, but in actuality, their identity never changes. They're both Venus, so one can never be more significant than the other."

The boy studied the radiant star, frowning thoughtfully.

"No matter how much I try to separate the two of you," Duo said softly, "even if at times it seems that you're as different as day and night, you're still Heero. Does that make any sense?"

Still gazing at Venus, Heero's lips curled up in a small smile. "Yeah," he whispered, turning to face his father. "Actually, it does."

_This would have been the perfect moment for a hug_, Duo mused sadly. How he wished his son would lean against him now, seeking some physical comfort in the form of a warm embrace. But Heero wasn't that kind of person; most boys his ages weren't. This wistful longing for a hug was all a part of watching your child grow up, Duo supposed. So instead he reached his hand up and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately.

"Good," he said, smiling.

Heero made this aghast face, pushing the man's hand away curtly. Duo kept on smiling anyway.

"How about we go home?" he suggested, standing up. "I think we can all use some rest." He reached his hand out to Heero. "Come on," he offered, "I'll teach you how to camouflage a Gundam," he declared proudly as though he had just offered they do some regular father-and-son thing. "Bet you can't find _that_ in any of those freaky _underground websites_ of yours..."

Heero smiled back a little. He jumped off the rock, joining his father. The two headed back to the landing site, walking side by side.

**To be continued...**

* * *

[1] Many scenes from this chapter and the next two chapters, are based on episode 26 of the anime: "The Eternal Flame of the Shooting Stars".

[2] Heero is using "The Nowhere Argument", which essentially argues that it is impossible to time travel, as you would be trying to get to somewhere that does not exist (past or future). If this were a sound argument, then it would be true that no one ever survives even one nanosecond into the future, yet you just did this a few trillion times as you read this paragraph!

[3] A phrase one uses to show surprise or disbelief, made famous by Doc Emmett Brown in the "Back to the Future" movies.

[4] This is called the **Theseus' paradox** (after The Ship of Theseus thought experiment), which raises the question of whether an object which has had all of its components replaced remains fundamentally the same object. Also known as "the problem of change and identity".


	21. Act Three - Part 2

**Paradox**

**Act Three**

**Part 2**

**October 23, AC 195, 0527 hours. **

**Somewhere deep within OZ's Lunar Base...**

Hidden deep within the massive lunar station used as OZ's base of operation in space, Dr. J and his four colleagues stood in front of a lone computer station surrounded by former OZ soldiers now calling themselves the Treize Faction. All eyes in the room were watching Dr. J carefully as the old man hacked into the base's security system to monitor the enemy's progress. He was looking at schematics of the base. Blinking red dots represented the groups of OZ soldiers searching the maze of hallways to find their hideout.

"They've located the gates to blocks A and B!" One soldier reported, "A large number of soldiers are headed this way!"

Suddenly, the lights went off and a voice spoke through the PA system:

"Members of the Treize Faction!" it called; "We've surrounded your hideout. I must say I have some reservations about fighting against former comrades without first talking things over. I think we can avoid senseless bloodshed."

"We're completely surrounded!" Dr. J determined as he studied the base's floorplan displayed on the monitor. "So I take it that means they want to negotiate with us."

"First of all, I can't promise to release _all_ of you," the voice continued saying over the speakers; "However, I guarantee that you will all live, as long as we can cooperate with each other."

Dr. J pressed a button, and the person speaking could be seen on the screen. He was a forty-something year-old lieutenant with dark hair and harsh facial features. Dr. J recognized the man easily as Lt. Trant Clark, the base's Chief Technical Officer, responsible for acquiring and adapting existing technologies, as well as overseeing the development of new technologies. He was the head of the Mercurius and Vayeate Project, an exceptional MS engineer, and therefore a respectable adversary. [[1]]

It was apparent that Lt. Clark recognized him as well, for the younger man smirked smugly once the video-chat activated and Dr. J's face was on screen.

"I didn't know that you doctors were hiding in there as well," he said haughtily. "As one engineer to another, I must say that it is an honor to meet you, sir. But I'm afraid that we must leave the pleasantries aside."

Dr. J nodded in agreement. "Likewise," he said gruffly. "What are your demands?"

"Hand over the Gundam pilots," Trant commanded sternly; "We will use them to record combat data on the Gundam."

"It looks like they noticed," Professor G, who was standing behind Doctor J along with the rest of the scientists, said. "I'm sure the system is just as attractive to OZ," he muttered in disdain.

"There's no choice," Dr. J told the group bleakly. "We will surrender the pilots."

He raised his head up to look at the metallic balcony-deck above, where Heero and Quatre stepped out of a dark hallway as if on cue. The two young pilots stood by the railing, looking down edgily. Heero seemed tense, Quatre worried. Dr. J looked back at the monitor before him.

"Unfortunately," Trant continued, "I don't think I can save your lives, doctors. Headquarters was pretty adamant about their decision to execute you. The best I can offer is to hold you hostage."

"We've been fortunate to survive _this_ long," Dr. J stated with a sarcastic smile, "I guess this ends our lucky streak," he joked drearily. "I'm prepared for the worst."

* * *

OZ soldiers moved into the hideout soon after, apprehending the members of the Treize Faction. No blood was shed. They gathered everyone up and prepared to escort them off base to be incarcerated and court-martialed. Dr. J stood on the balcony-deck along with his underling, observing the mass incarceration below. Heero watched the scene calmly, his posture rigid and his eyes hard.

"We're probably next," J spoke behind him.

"You're leaving me in enemy hands," Heero said, his dreary and emotionless affect almost eerie; too calm and unconcerned to be natural, given the distressing situation. "Saving your own skin," he added understatedly; his flat tone hardly accusing, which only gave a stronger impression of spite.

"All's fair in love and war," J kidded bitterly and the boy spun around to face him, scowling in silent admonishment. Although theirs was a very clear superior-subordinate affiliation, there was somewhat of an avuncular quality to J's relationship with the boy, which meant that such mild displays insubordination went unpunished, and if fact – were welcomed. It was the only reassurance Dr. J had that his underling was more than a mindless drone following orders, that he was still a person, and perhaps one day, when the boy will no longer be obliged to fulfill his role as a soldier, this person will be allowed to resurface.

If Heero felt angry and cheated by his superior, he didn't let it show. His hard features betrayed nothing; it was only the punitive glare in his bleak blue eyes which suggested he might lay the blame on his commander.

The old man regarded his subordinate quietly, observing the prominent dark shadows still present under the boy's glaring eyes. He frowned sullenly at the boy.

"You didn't get any rest, did you?" He scolded.

Heero didn't say anything to confirm, just kept glaring steadily at J, but it was obvious the boy was exhausted. With his pale and bruised face, and much to J's dismay, the young pilot seemed almost frail; like a child who was uselessly trying to uphold a strong front, hoping his parents will let him stay up late. J heaved an exasperated sigh, shaking his head.

"You should have slept while you had the chance, Heero," he reprimanded. "OZ won't go easy on you just because it's _past your bedtime_."

Heero's glowering stare turned a few degrees colder. The boy was clearly insulted, seething inside, but he kept his mouth shut, simmering quietly.

"Trant, their CTO, wants to test the ZERO System on you," Dr. J informed him drearily as he reached a hand into his lab coat pocket. "Play along," he ordered, "buy us some time."

Heero clamped his fists tightly. "Yes, sir," he complied edgily through clenched teeth.

Dr. J held his hand out to Heero. The boy's sharp blue eye darted towards the old man's open palm.

"This should help," J said, handing Heero two blue pills he had retrieved from his pocket. "Don't overdo it."

The boy hesitated a moment, staring warily at the blue pills in the old man's hand. He recognized them, since this was not the first time he had to depend on drugs to keep him awake and alert during missions. He reached to accept them, mumbling a tired: "Yes, sir."

Soldiers came to take J away along with the other scientists. Heero watched as they escorted the old man at gun point. With his resentful glare fixed on Dr. J's retreating backside, Heero threw the two pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry quickly.

Then another group of armed soldiers came. Trant was among them, as was Quatre, who's already been apprehended. Heero turned to face the OZ CTO, scowling at the man guardedly.

"You're coming with us, pilot," Lt. Clark commanded sternly; "you'd be wise to come as quietly as the rest."

Ignoring the man as if he was of no consequence at all, Heero walked past him, heading for the hallway from which the group of soldiers came.

Trant glowered at the teen agitatedly, looking as though he was about to explode, but then he just grunted and marched after the boy.

"Get moving!" He barked at his men, who hurried to walk back to the hallway as well, taking Quatre with them.

The blonde pilot gazed anxiously at Heero's backside as the boy walked ahead of the group, his proud back as rigid as his sturdy pace. Suddenly, Heero's stride began to falter. The boy slowed down, his body slumping forward tiredly. Then, he collapsed.

"Heero!" Quatre called and pushed the soldiers escorting him aside so he could get to Heero quickly.

As the Wing pilot sagged to the floor, he realized that he'd been duped. Those were not stimulants J had given him, but sedatives. He had trusted J with his life and the old man did with it as he pleased, like always.

Heero moaned helplessly, his eyes rolling back into his head. The last thought to run through his head as the ground loomed closer was the shocking realization that J has left him completely helpless at the hands of the enemy. Then, Heero hit the floor, and everything went black.

"_Shit!_" Trant cussed loudly, looking at the pilot sprawled lifelessly on the floor, face down. "The little _prick!_" He grunted, kicking the lifeless boy in frustration. Heero's unconscious body rocked roughly.

"Stop it!" Quatre pounced at him, ramming his shoulder in to the man to push him away from Heero.

"It's not his fault!" He called, kneeling next to Heero's prone figure and checking for a pulse. "You guys were pushing him too hard!"

"Well what good are you _pilots_ if you can't take it?!"

"We're not like your _mobile dolls!_" Quatre shouted back. "Isn't' that what you're after? Something more than a mindless _drone_?!"

"Put them in the brig!" The lieutenant barked angrily at his men; "Inform me _the second_ this boy wakes up!" He stomped away, fuming.

Quatre remained crouching on the floor next to Heero, looking worried.

* * *

**October 23, AC 195, 1134 hours. **

**Somewhere off the shore of Block Island...**

Heero was tired; so terribly tired, that his temples pulsed agonizingly and he could feel a sharp ache pulsating around his eyes. He's had a total of about eight hours sleep in the last 48 hours, and he was exhausted. First the incident of nearly dying on the beach where _Junior _left him, then the first incarceration by OZ, followed by Relena's _stupid_ suggestion that they go to that wedding, then his second arrest by OZ and finally last night's big discovery that has left him rattled more than any of the above. Damn. Less than a week ago his life was all about homework and soccer – dull, quiet, gray... and now it seemed like forever ago. Who would have thought that he'd miss the mundane so much?

Sighing wearily, he leaned his head aside against a small airplane window to his left, closing his eyes. He was sitting buckled up in one of the passenger seats inside his dad's small Cessna. The motors roared loudly, the intolerable rumpus vibrating through the aircraft's hull, rocking his head as he leaned against the window. The twin-engined business-jet could seat up to six people in the passengers cabin. Heero occupied a row of two seats to the left, while Relena sat at the opposite row to the right. The girl was looking out her window, gazing numbly at the blue ocean below. His dad was flying the plane.

After they stashed the 02 Gundam safely on the beach, camouflaging it with nets and technology Heero had never even heard of before, they went home. Junior stayed behind to keep an eye on the Gundam.

His dad said that it wasn't safe to let Relena go back home to the Thomson's estate, so she stayed over, sleeping in his father's messy den. The two teens barely got three hours of sleep before Duo woke them up again and urged them to get ready to leave. Heero was certain his dad hadn't slept a wink; he had a feeling the man was used to functioning on very little sleep.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes (Heero gave Relena a pair of jeans and a sweater; they hung baggily from her slim figure, but did the job), a hasty breakfast and not much explanation about where they were going or why, Duo drove them to the airfield. There, they took off in his plane and have been flying over the Atlantic Ocean for approximately two hours now. Not knowing where they were going or how long it would take them to get there, Heero decided to get some much needed shut-eye.

It took him forever to fall asleep. Despite the fatigue, his mind was on overdrive. He didn't get a chance to talk to his dad since their heartfelt conversation on the beach, and there was still a lot he wanted to know. However, he got the feeling that his dad was done talking for now. Duo seemed to be preoccupied with something bigger, something vital, at the moment. Heero didn't know what. All he knew was that when he came down to the kitchen to make Relena and him a quick breakfast before they left, he saw that his dad's shoebox was lying open on the kitchen table, all of Duo's scribbly _"history notes"_ scattered around it. There was also a large satellite phone, and a gun – a different one than the pistol Heero had _"borrowed"_ from the box, the one he had lost at the reception. His dad didn't even ask him about the gun or the notes, he let it slide because he was busy with something else. Question was – with what?

"Oh my," Relena gasped quietly and Heero jerked awake with a start, realizing that he had dozed off despite the unbearable headache and circling thoughts. He turned to Relena and asked anxiously:

"What is it?"

"Look," she said, pointing out her window.

Heero unbuckled his seatbelt and walked over to her row, climbing on his knees onto the chair next to hers. He leaned over Relena, peering out the small window and squinting his eyes against the bright light.

There, down below, standing in the vast blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean, was an enormous naval platform, like an oil rig, but much longer, more like an aircraft carrier.

He could feel pressure building up in his ears; they were descending. The closer they got the platform, the more detail he could see. There was writing on the runway; big bold black letters spelling: **WINNER CORPORATION INC.**

"The Winner Corporation?" Relena frowned thoughtfully, turning to Heero with inquisitive eyes. "Aren't they a space mining company?"

Heero shrugged his shoulders and made this clueless expression; like many other things about their situation, he really didn't know.

The small Cessna soon landed on the ocean platform. Looking out the window, Heero could see a group of people waiting for them by the runway. They were expected?

His dad emerged from the cockpit, wearing a gray jumpsuit, a headset and a pair of aviator sunglasses. "Stay here," he told the two teenagers while taking off his headset; "I'll come get you after I explain a few things," he added and turned to open the airplane door.

"Where are we?" Heero asked.

His dad sent him a reassuring smile. "Somewhere safe," he promised his son, and then jumped out of the aircraft. Relena and Heero turned to the window again, watching Duo walk towards the group of people waiting by the runway.

"Yo!" A familiar cheerful voice called carelessly from the door and both teens turned in its direction, surprised. It was Duo Jr. (for all intents and purposes), climbing onto the plane. The boy was dressed in a grease-stained jumpsuit, his long braid a mess.

"Took you guys long enough!" He taunted, smirking as he looked around the small plane. "Fuck me if I'm ever caught flying something that goes less than supersonic. Mach one is where I draw the line!"

"What are you doing here?" Heero frowned at the braided boy.

"What's it look like?" Junior snapped at him. "I had to bring my buddy to the shop after your dad botched it all up! Hard to look cool when your Gundam is falling apart with crappy spare parts!"

"Does my dad know you're here?"

"He ain't the boss of me!" Junior rolled his eyes. "It's _my_ fucking suit," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Is this some kind of secret base?" Relena asked carefully.

"Yeah, sure, call it that," Junior shrugged.

"Does the Winner Corporation know the CLO is using one of its rigs as a base of operation?" She demanded to know.

"Know it? They _own_ it! 'f course they know it! Who do you think calls the shots? You think funding a war is cheap?! Building Gundams costs money, and keeping them going costs even more. They don't run on _pixie dust_, you know!"

Relena glared at him wrathfully, taking offense.

"So the Winners are funding the CLO?" Heero asked, trying to figure out what was bothering Relena about this whole arrangement.

"Not exactly..." Junior muttered. "But let's just say they're lending a hand with this campaign... one with access to some _very_ fat accounts..."

"It's Quatre Winner, right?" Relena ventured an educated guess.

"Who?" Heero asked, clueless.

"Only the heir of one of the richest families in space!" Relena answered reproachfully, outraged that he didn't even know that famous piece of trivia. "His father died about two weeks ago... something about an accident on the Winner Resource Colony," [[2]] she said, her mind racing to piece the puzzle together. "It was all over the news."

"Must have missed it..." Heero mumbled awkwardly, looking away. He was getting sick of being caught with his pants down. His ignorance was becoming a nuisance, not to mention an embarrassment.

"I think I saw him at the wedding reception..." Relena recalled vaguely; "Oh my God," she gasped, turning to gape at Junior; "He's one of you, isn't he?"

"He's Zero-Four," Heero said before Junior could confirm. The two other teens turned to him, surprised.

"Yeah," Junior confirmed suspiciously; "And how would _you_ know?"

Relena also seemed eager to know the answer. "Yes," she agreed, regarding her friend warily; "How come you don't know about the Winner Corporation and other stuff on the news, but you know about the pilots... or what happened to me in 91."

Heero hesitated to say. "I uh..." he let out, smiling apologetically at the girl; "I kinda found these _notes_ Duo was keeping..."

"What _notes_?" Relena asked, scowling as though offended that he had kept this from her.

"Yeah," Junior also asked, raising his chin up spitefully; "what notes?"

* * *

Duo reached the group of people waiting for him by the runway. He recognized their faces; most of them belonged to people he had known during his time with the Sweeper's Group. Another face belonged to a bald man with a goatee, dressed colorfully in a Hawaiian shirt and wraparound shades over his eyes – Howard. The other two belonged to Quatre, and Doctor J. The three were standing at the head of the group, looking at him expectantly as he approached.

"My God," Howard gasped as he got a close look at the thirty-five year old man. He moved his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, gaping at Duo. "So it is true," he marveled and pushed his shades back up.

"Wouldn't lie to you, would I, Howard?" Duo smirked at the man and reached his hand out for a handshake. "It's good to see you, old man."

Howard cackled awkwardly and shook Duo's hand. "This is unbelievable!" He called, laughing.

"I'd say," Dr. J interjected, inspecting Duo carefully from behind his strange mirrored googles. "Quite extraordinary," he muttered disdainfully.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Duo glowered at the old man hatefully. "The idiot who changed history. Remarkable, I'm sure."

"You might be an idiot, Mister Maxwell, but you certainly didn't change history," Dr. J informed him in a self-aggrandizing way. "How could you? If you went back to change something, and therefore that something never happened, then there would have been no reason for you to go back to stop this event."

"Da fuck you talkin' 'bout?" Duo snapped irately. It wasn't like he had much respect for the man in the first place, and he'll be damned if he treated the old fart civilly this time around. As far as he was concerned, J was the reason Heero died in the first place – so this whole mess was _his_ fault!

"From what Zero-Two told us," J explained, "you came back for Heero, didn't you? Your boy. The original Zero-One."

"Yeah, I did. So?"

"So if your actions caused a chain of events that resulted in Heero _not_ dying in the future, then how can you be here?" Dr. J sneered; "He didn't die, so you never set out to save him."

Now Duo was confused. "Are you saying that he's gonna die anyway?"

"I'm saying that if you would have succeeded, then you being here would have been a paradox, and the universe will not allow such a contradiction to be created."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you can't change the past... end of the universe and all that. I heard it all before, believe me, but here I am!" He gestured down at himself animatedly.

"What you heard is true," J maintained, "which is why I am talking about _Multi_-Dimensional time," he clarified; "You didn't change the past, you simply created an alternate version of it. The past you know is still out there, and so is that future."

"I think my brain is about to explode..." Duo winced, rubbing his forehead.

"Think about time like a railroad track," Howard offered; "The track begins in your original timeline, but a new path spurs from the track in AC 188, upon your arrival back in time. This spur includes events like your presence and stopping Heero from becoming a Gundam pilot, events that are not in the original timeline. So, even though you won't be there to save Heero from being killed in AC 207 of the original timeline, you can be here in the AC 207 of _this_ spur, and stop this event if needed. That way, by merely traveling to a time at which you weren't present originally, you do make something that didn't happen on the original timeline to happen on the spur off the original line. That is the only way to avoid the paradox."

Duo frowned at his old friend, trying to make sense of what he had said. "So in essence the person I set out to save still dies?"

"Precisely," J established, "Otherwise, you wouldn't be here. None of us would."

Duo felt a sharp pang in his heart. "This means that Heero is still... alive?" He let out painfully; "that he's still out there somewhere..?"

The thought was staggering. It hurt in a way he never thought he could hurt. He had mourned his lover's death for so long, taking comfort in giving Heero a second chance at life in the form of his adopted son, and now they were telling him that Heero – _his_ Heero, the man he loved more than life itself – was still _alive_?

"Alive, yes," J stated forbiddingly, "but out of reach."

Duo heaved a troubled sigh. "So these two tracks," he said, trying to stay focused and ignore the pain for the moment, "they keep running forward, but in different directions?"

"More like in parallel," J corrected. "Otherwise, the intelligence you've been providing us, such as the intel that helped me avoid OZ capture, would have proven false. The two timelines are still very similar."

"Funny how he chooses to share this information only when it suits him," Quatre finally intervened in the conversation. He had been standing quietly next to Howard the whole time, watching the exchange of words between the three with glaring blue eyes. Now, he was glowering at Duo. "He's very _picky_ about who he chooses to save," the blonde pilot added resentfully.

Duo turned to the boy with guilty eyes.

"I'm sorry about your father," he said slowly; "But I made a choice to intervene with this timeline as little as possible," he explained in a pained voice. "That's why I only warned you guys about J's capture, not the rest," [[3]] he said. "That's why I continued to sit tight while many other horrible things happened. I've already done enough damage by taking Heero away from what he was meant to do. I had no way of knowing what kind of Butterfly Effect this might cause, so I decided to keep my interventions to a bare minimum," he clarified with a grimacing expression. "I only saved Duo because I knew things won't go down the same if he was also out of the picture. I did my best to keep things as they were before."

"A wise choice," Dr. J commented dryly, but Quatre didn't seem at all satisfied with the explanation; he was seething, consumed by irrational grief.

"Yet you still saw fit to contact us _after_ my father died to stop me from using Winner-estate resources to construct the new Gundam according to those blueprints I found," he pointed out sullenly.

"Yes," Duo admitted ruefully. "Believe me, I did you a favor. You have no idea what that thing would have done to you, Quatre."

"Oh, you did that to _save _me, now did you?" The blonde boy asked skeptically, his angry blue eyes glaring daggers at Duo.

"Partly, yes," Duo replied calmly; "But also because I figured we need it. Time is running out. Things aren't happening fast enough and Earth is in danger. I can't sit tight anymore."

"I take it you used the Gundam in the other timeline?" Howard asked.

"No, not me. I couldn't handle it. We all tried to pilot that thing, but couldn't. Everyone just lost their minds to it. Everyone but Heero, that is."

"The original Zero-One?" Dr. J enquired.

"Yes."

The old man smirked, looking pleased. "I must have done a better job with that one," he muttered complacently.

"_Too _good a job," Duo grumbled sourly, glaring at the old man. "But in the very least, it won us the war."

"Hmm," the old man let out thoughtfully. "I am curious to meet that boy of yours, then."

"Over my dead body," Duo hissed maliciously. "This time around – I'm your man."

"And what makes you think you'd be able to handle it _this _time?" Quatre questioned vindictively. Duo turned to glare at the young pilot.

"Because I'd like to think that I got it more together nowadays. I'm not that kid anymore."

"Alright," J smirked nastily, examining the younger man carefully. "Let's get to work then, shall we?" He gestured at a nearby door leading down to the lower decks, inviting Duo to walk with him. "I want you to tell me everything you know about Wing ZERO..."

* * *

Sunset over the Atlantic was a marvelous spectacle of brilliant colors; a gradient of vibrant blue, orange, yellow and pink tinted the cloudy sky as the sun seemed to dissolve into the calm bluish-gray waters. Heero and Relena sat on a pile of large wooden crates stacked together on an empty deck at the aft of the naval platform. The square-shaped deck, which was most likely originally designed as a helipad, was located in a deserted corner of the rig, allowing the two some privacy. They sat side by side on the pile of crates, feet dangling loosely in the air, and watched the sunset mutely. Relena was looking sadly at the horizon, while Heero's expression remained numb.

After coming to get them out of the plane, his dad had left with a group of people and disappeared somewhere below deck. He said he had important work to do, and told Heero that he and his _"girlfriend"_ should at least _try_ to stay out of trouble for a while.

They spent the day wandering around the large platform with nothing to do. Junior was also busy, hanging around a large hangar where his Gundam was being repaired. They weren't allowed into the hangar. They weren't allowed _anywhere_. When they tried to go below decks to see what Duo was up to, they were escorted back up by armed men. Whatever the CLO was hiding down there must be important; some top-secret weapon, the two teenagers assumed.

At some point they found the abandoned platform at the far back of the rig and spent the whole afternoon standing by the safety-railing surrounding the deck, watching the ocean. A pack of dolphins swam by, and they passed the time observing them. It felt awful to be standing idly while everyone else around them worked hard to find an end to this war. All around them there was action; an air of promptness, drive and determination. The whole rig buzzed hectically like a busy hive; people moving hastily from one duty to another, driven by a clear vocation – the men and women on the CLO. And then there was them: strolling around... looking at them work. The whole situation seemed to make Relena restless, aggravated even, while Heero just felt dazed. He was still trying to wrap his head around all of this.

In the late afternoon hours, his dad came back up to see how they were doing. He said that he's arranged for quarters and that they could go get some rest. He showed them to the mess hall, where they could have some dinner, and then left again, apologizing that he had to go. Heero tried to ask what they were doing down there, but his dad told him that the less he knew, the better. Heero has never felt so frustrated in his life. Having nothing else to do, they wandered back to the deserted deck and settled on the pile of crates to watch the sunset quietly.

Tearing his gaze away from where the golden orb was disappearing into the horizon, Heero turned to look at the girl sitting by his side. She was wearing a pair of his jeans and a black sweater he had given her, both a bit oversized, but they flattered her still; he liked the way they hung from her slim waist and shoulders. Her long sandy-blonde hair was gathered into a high pony-tail, a few stray locks were tousled by the cool ocean breeze. She wasn't wearing any makeup for a change, but her fair skin was practically glowing under the soft golden light of the setting sun. Her blue eyes shone vividly, reflecting the sun like jewels. He stole a few guilty glances her way and hurried to look back at the ocean before she'd notice.

He thought she was beautiful; a fierce kind of beauty. Her eyes always burnt wildly even when her features seemed poised. There was fire in her; heady and enthralling. He had no doubt that Relena was the kind of person who could change the world, as she was determined to do. She was tantalizing, and he was starting to realize just how highly he thought of her; he was falling for her, wasn't he? So how could Duo say that he was... that the other him was... that he didn't even like... how could he..? He wasn't gay!

He turned to Relena, hesitating as he watched the perfect curls of her face in profile. His gaze traveled downwards slowly, falling on where her gentle hand rested limply against the crate they were sitting on, her fingers curled slightly as if begging to be held...

His hand moved towards her, slowly. He hesitated and stopped, staring uncertainly at her hand. If he did this, it would be crossing a line... one he was pretty sure she didn't want him to cross. She was comfortable with him as her friend, and he shouldn't ruin his only friendship because he couldn't resist the sight of her fair white skin in the sunset light... but...

He turned to look at the sunset anxiously, struggling with himself. His hand remained hovering but never touching, until Relena moved her hand away, placing it on her lap. She sighed, looking miserably at the ocean.

"We're not actually doing this whole boy-girl awkward-tension thing are we?" She asked in disappointment, refusing to look at him as she spoke the harsh words.

"What?" He tried to act surprised and shook his head. "No! I wasn't... of course not!" He stammered, grimacing at his own stupidity.

Relena turned to look at him, her eyes shimmering under the golden light. She seemed apologetic; clearly uncomfortable. "I mean, this is hardly the time _or_ place for this kind of..."

"Yeah, I know," he hurried to say before she could finish rebuking him. His stomach was twisting painfully; he was so stupid!

"It's not... it's not like that..." he mumbled, bowing his head down to stare at his legs dangling down from the crate.

An air of nervousness engulfed the two as the waves whistled relentlessly in the background. The last traces of the golden sun melted into the water, leaving behind shades of dim pink and blue to paint the cloudy sky.

"Look," Relena tried to explain, feeling awful; "It's just that... You're my best friend, you know that, right Heero?"

The words stung, and Heero winced. He was SO stupid!

"Yeah, I know," he murmured and looked the other way, embarrassed. "I wasn't... I mean... It's not..."

"Unless this was because you feel you have something to prove," Relena tried to offer him a graceful way out, "after what your fath—"

"No!" He exclaimed, mortified, whirling his head around to face her with wide blue eyes. "I... It's not... I wasn't..." His words failed him, as they did often, and he heaved a frustrated sigh, falling quiet. He turned to look at the sea, wincing at his own ineptitude.

"Forget it," he grunted sullenly and crossed his arms over his chest tightly. "I wasn't... so... just forget it."

A tense and awkward silence stretched for a few moments. Finally, Relena jumped off the crate to the deck below, and turned to look up at where Heero was sitting.

"I think I'll go check out those quarters," she told him, smiling ruefully. "It's been a long couple of days and..." Her voice faded out slowly as she noted that Heero wasn't listening. He was looking at the ocean, ignoring her. She stood there a moment, observing him with sorrowful blue eyes. She never meant to hurt him.

"Are you coming?" She offered in a soft, apologetic tone. "We could go by the mess hall again... maybe grab a snack or something?"

"No," he said quietly, never averting his eyes from a vague point in the horizon. "I... Not right now."

She nodded, accepting this wish to stay away for a while.

"Alright," she tried to smile, but it came out too sad; "I'll see you in the morning."

"Sure," he mumbled, looking ahead numbly.

Relena sighed quietly and walked away. Heero remained seated on the crate, leaning his elbows on his thighs. He stared dully at the ocean, feeling stupid. He groaned in mortification, burying his face in his hands. Who was he kidding? He'll never be good enough for her. He was just some kid from Block Island, and she was the princess of a faraway land; he's been living his life with his head buried in the sand, while she's already been out there, in the heart of it all; he was doing his best to keep his head down, while she wished to plunge head-on into a world of complex wartime politics, deception, thrill and intrigue. He will never be good enough for her.

Sadness flooded him and he wondered if that _other _version of him was worthier of her. He had this terrible sinking feeling in his chest that he could never live up to that kind of guy. He shouldn't fool himself... Relena could never fall for someone like him.

* * *

Night engulfed the Atlantic Ocean with a breathtaking blanket of twinkling stars. The autumn skies had cleared, although in the distance a new storm front was brewing. A mass of black clouds obscured the horizon, illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning.

Heero sat on the edge of the abandoned deck, under the railing, gazing dully down at where the rig's yellow lights glimmered on the water. His legs dangled in the air about forty feet above the water. Down below, calm ocean waves made soft trickling sounds as they washed repeatedly against the sturdy foundations holding the enormous naval platform above sea-level. The boy sat gazing dully at the horizon, watching the waning crescent moon rise slowly in the east.

Beyond the few hundred feet of sparkling waves, only darkness remained. The thin crescent moon hanging over the vast ocean didn't radiate enough light, and the world around the platform was swallowed in black. There used to be a time, not so long ago actually, when Heero would have enjoyed sitting on the edge of the unknown. He had spent hours at his favorite strand of beach, gazing at the ocean and picturing all that lay waiting beyond the island, beyond his reach. He had always felt cheated somehow, robbed of a chance to be a part of what was out there. Now, when it turned out to be true, Heero wasn't so sure how he should feel about it. He wasn't angry, just... numb. The feeling was somewhat akin to wishing really hard for something and then when you finally do get it, you realize it's not really what you wanted and you're in over your head. Only it wasn't quite like that. Nothing has really changed. He wasn't expected to _do_ anything. His dad was still trying to shield him from the world like he had always done. The only difference was that now there were no more secrets. Now he knew exactly what he had been cheated of and to be honest, he wasn't so sure it was such a bad thing to be denied of such fate. So why did he feel so rotten about it? Was it because that, in a way, he had run away from a huge responsibility? But who's to say that it was _his_ responsibility anymore? Was it ever?

"Man, nothing beats a razor-thin moon like that," an intimately familiar voice came from somewhere behind him. For a split second, Heero thought it was his dad, but then his mind registered the slightly lighter tone in which the familiar voice spoke, and he realized that it was Junior. Holding onto the railing's metal post, he turned to look over his shoulder, and saw the young Gundam pilot walking towards him. He was still wearing a grease-stained jumpsuit, his messy braid dangling over his back. He was holding a can of coke in his hand, sipping it casually as he approached.

"Kinda looks like a scythe, don't you think?" Junior said, chuckling, as he plopped down on the floor next to Heero, swinging his legs over the ledge until they dangled freely in the air. He leaned back against one arm, the can of coke in the other, and looked up at the moon while taking a sip.

"I like how the moon looks from Earth," he said, gazing enthralled at the heavens; "All these different shapes and colors... From the Colonies it just looks too close, I guess. It almost looks like a graveyard." [[4]]

Heero turned to look thoughtfully at the thin-sliver of the moon. "A graveyard?" He wondered quietly, frowning. He had never thought about it that way. To him, the moon was something trivial, just another beauty to be taken for granted. He was starting to realize that now.

"Yeah, well, guess you'd have to see it from space to agree," Junior shrugged and took another sip of coke. "Big gray barren wasteland... a couple of military outposts here and there... not to mention an actual graveyard," he cackled; "Hardly as magical as it seems from Earth. Guess you should count yourself lucky to be living here. Everything seems more beautiful from down here."

"Is that why you resent me so much?" Heero asked, looking carefully at the other boy.

Junior gazed lengthily at the darkness ahead, his eyes still focused on no particular point.

"I dunno," he sighed and placed his coke on the deck, turning it left and right absentmindedly. "I tried to think about it, yanno. I mean..." He heaved another long sigh, shaking his head gravely. He turned to look at the black ocean. Heero studied the boy's profile closely. He seemed... sad; like a mask had slipped off, exposing the hurt this boy felt underneath. Suddenly it occurred to Heero that the zany jokes, the nasty comments, the blatant hostility and crappy attitude, they were all a front this boy put up. He might be a well-trained MS pilot, but he was still a kid, with all the _attitude_ thereto pertaining.

"It's just that..." Junior tried to explain, for once struggling with his words; "He came back for you, yeah? But he never came for _me_." The boy shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture. "He coulda saved me too, but he saved _you_. He _only_ saves you and the rest of the world can go fuck itself. But... I mean... why _you_? What's so special about you that makes you worth all this sacrifice? I look at you, and I don't get it, and it _pisses me off!_" He exclaimed and threw the can of coke at the ocean, glaring ahead angrily.

Heero watched the small can crash into the water, gaping at it dully as it sank and disappeared into the deep.

"I didn't choose this," he said quietly and turned to look at the other boy, his eyes just as wounded as Junior's. "I don't think I would have, if given the choice."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Junior sighed sadly. "I mean, if anyone's to blame, it's me, right? Because your dad is me, sorta. This was _our_ choice, in a way..." He let out this chuckle, too hopeless to be humorous, and fixed his gaze up at the moon again. "Guess I should be mad at myself, then."

"You can be mad at me too," Heero said; "I really haven't done anything in my life to deserve these sacrifices."

An awkward silence fell between the two. They stared at the ocean, listening to the waves hustling against the rig.

"So it looks like my buddy's getting this _major_ upgrade," Junior suddenly spoke up again, his tone strangely cheerful as though the heavy conversation from a moment ago never happened. "A whole bunch of new gizmos to get the hang of, so... I better get back in there," he concluded, getting up. "Break time's over."

"Sure," Heero told him, even managing half a smile. "Good luck."

"Yeah, well... we need it..." Junior mumbled and turned to leave. "Nighty night!" He waved his hand back casually at Heero as he walked away.

Alone once more, Heero turned back to look at the dark ocean. He watched the black mass of storm clouds obscuring the stars in the horizon and caught a few glimpses of lightning flashing within the approaching rainstorm. He mused dully about its banal symbolism, staring at the storm numbly.

The sound of shuffling footsteps approached him slowly from behind. It seemed like everyone was taking a break at this late hour. He didn't recognize the heavy footfalls. Whoever was coming, was carrying themselves tiresomely, and by the soft tapping sound accompanying each step, this person was also using the aid of a cane. There was another sound preceding each footstep, one of creaking and clanking metal; leg braces?

Heero turned around to see who was approaching him, and saw an old man in a white lab coat holding a walking cane in his left hand, his right hand deep inside his pocket. He had long gray hair, strange eye lenses, and metal braces around one of his legs. He was limping tiredly towards him.

"Enjoying the night air, are we?" The old man asked nicely, though his voice was gruff. "Everyone is so damn busy, it's nice to see someone taking the time to smell the roses and appreciate what we're all fighting for."

Heero didn't know why, but he had the feeling that the man was making some sort of pun at his expense. He hurried to stand up. "Actually, I was just leaving," he said apologetically.

"Oh, don't leave on my account," the old man implored him; "I was just taking a short break to get some air. I'll be out of your hair soon enough." He stopped next to the railing, leaning against it as he turned to gaze at the dark ocean. The crescent moon reflected on his mirrored eye-googles.

Heero studied the man curiously. There was something eerily familiar about him, but he couldn't put his finger on it...

"My colleagues are up there," the old man said broodingly, looking at the moon; "as well as one of our pilots, Zero-Five." He sighed, shaking his head. "So far things haven't gone our way, but I'm hoping that your dad can turn the tide in our favor." He turned to face Heero, smiling oddly at the boy.

"I remember you," he said, finally pulling his hand from his pocket. But it wasn't a hand, rather a metal claw-like prosthesis. Heero's eyes widened slightly in recognition: the old man from the alley.

"I remember you too," he said quietly.

"You were scared of my arm," the old man gestured with his claw at Heero, sneering.

"I was _eight_," Heero snarled defensively and the old man laughed.

"That you were," he agreed, still leering at the boy. "Huddled against your daddy like a frightened kitty, if I recall correctly."

"He wasn't my father then," Heero groused; "and I _wasn't_ scared."

"Oh?" The old man quirked an eyebrow. "Then was I correct to assume that it was _you_ who attacked the Alliance base on that colony?"

Heero looked away uncomfortably, turning to face the ocean. "Things were different back then," he mumbled.

"Which is why you chose to go with Duo," the old man concluded. "You were looking for a way out."

"I wasn't _looking_ for anything!" Heero cried out, frustrated.

"I am not accusing you of anything," the old man assured him; "you made the choice any child would have made when presented with the two paths you faced that day. Like you said, you were only eight, and no eight-year-old should have to do the things you were forced to do back then. You're a very lucky boy, do you know that?"

Heero bowed his head down, staring numbly at the waves below. "I guess," he mumbled, feeling very uneasy, for he had only just begun to realize it.

"Sadly," the old man added, "some children are not as lucky. Even more regrettably, I am also to blame in their misfortune."

"You're talking about Zero-One," Heero deduced.

"Among other things..." the old man sighed sadly; "He was a fine soldier, but not much of a person. Again, I am to blame. It was the one thing I neglected to teach my pilot, and, apparently, the most crucial thing he had to learn. In hindsight, I now know that it's impossible to fight for people when you don't feel that you're a part of them. Orders are not enough to ensure a soldier does what it takes. You need a reason to fight, loved ones to fight for." He turned to Heero, smiling sadly at the boy.

"You'd make a much better candidate," he determined; "There is kindness in you," he said almost softly, "You have good eyes." [[5]]

Heero looked away uneasily, not knowing what to say.

"It all worked out for the best, I suppose," the old man murmured. "I would have hated seeing the goodness in your eyes die out."

"But you did it to him," Heero blamed quietly. "You were his commander?"

The old man nodded. "People around here call me Doctor J, though it's hardly an official credential," he said, smirking sarcastically. He reached out his right hand, the metal clawed one, to Heero. "You can just call me Jay. Jay Null."

Heero stared at the man's daunting metal hand for a moment, hesitating. He recalled how he had cringed as a child when he first saw it. He could almost feel a phantom memory of Duo's warmth against his side, remembering how he had pressed himself to the man's leg seeking protection, almost as if he knew...

"Alright..." Heero let out slowly, frowning, and finally shook the old man's artificial hand. He leveled his gaze with Jay's.

"Heero Maxwell," he responded in kind and introduced himself. Mr. Null smirked, amused by his tentative civility.

"Trust me boy, we all know who you are," he laughed; "You're the lucky boy for whom history was changed!"

Heero looked away awkwardly, letting for of the man's metal hand. "I guess that Zero-One wasn't so lucky..." he mumbled, staring sadly at the ocean.

"Oh, he was already too far gone when I found him," Jay reflected mournfully; "rough childhood on the streets... terrible, really. I'm ashamed to say that I took advantage of that."

"Is that why you turned to me in that alley?" Heero asked starkly, somewhat enraged. "You thought that I was already... _damaged_? Who are you to decide if a child is beyond salvation? Duo helped me, maybe _you_ could have helped that child, but you doomed him instead!"

"I had no choice," Mr. Null said firmly, glaring tensely at the ocean. "It was either hurt this child who was already damaged, or see my own children hurt."

"You have kids?" Heero was taken aback. For some reason, it hadn't occurred to him that this man, this wretched old man who took poor children off the streets and trained them into ruthless soldiers, could be fighting for the same old reason many other people chose to make such a sacrifice: their children, their future. Even the most despicable men, enemy or not, loved their children.

"Two of them, yes," the old man nodded; "and five grandchildren." He reached into his lab coat and pulled out a smartphone device. After swiping his (human) finger on the screen for a few seconds, he showed Heero a Christmas family photo of five smiling children: three boys and two girls.

"This is Adena," he said, pointing at the oldest girl. "She's about your age." He pointed at another, smaller, girl; "This is Tabitha. She's five." Jay then pointed at three boys around the ages of eight to ten: "and these are Myron, and the twins – Dane and Efrem."

Mr. Null swiped his finger over the screen to change a photo to that of two young men, twins by the looks of them, standing with one's arm wrapped around the other's shoulders, both smiling at the camera.

"My sons," he explained, "Nate and Lael. I haven't seen them in over fifteen years..." the old man exhaled sadly; "Chances are that they don't even know I'm alive."

He turned to look at Heero, his expression dour.

"We had to silence many dreams for our cause, inflict a lot of sorrow. That is the price we must pay for being the hand that serves the people, even though they don't know that it is us who serve them. All that's left for us is the small hope that these sacrifices will be worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind. If we win this war, if we bring peace and liberation to the Colonies, then all these sins will be justified. It's our sole obligation to make sure that these sacrifices, including the unfortunate death of my young ward, won't be in vain." He returned the phone into his lab coat pocket and turned to lean on the railing again, looking at the moon.

"Now, thanks to your father, it seems as though we might have a chance." He let out an ironic snort. "Amazing, isn't it? The things people do for their children..."

Heero turned to lean on the railing as well. "Is he going to fight?" He asked, looking anxiously at Jay.

"What choice does he have? Right now, he's the best pilot we have. The only one capable of operating our latest asset, or so he claims."

"But that's not fair!" Heero exclaimed, deeply upset. "He shouldn't have to fight! He already did his part!"

"Yes, but he messed it up when he tried to save _you_."

"Then let me fight instead!" Heero called out rashly.

Mr. Null laughed, greatly amused by his reckless teenage spirt. "Boy, there's a difference between being kind, and being stupid. Right now, you're being the latter," he admonished and Heero glared at him sullenly.

"Do you really think your father would be willing to give up on all the sacrifices he has made for you, and let you take back your place as a pilot? Is that what you call _fair_? I know I wouldn't want_ my_ children to make my sacrifices in my stead." He raised his metal hand, opening and closing the claw while looking at it broodingly.

"My fight against the Alliance and OZ goes way back..." [[6]] he said slowly; "As it turned out from the very beginning, I make a much better engineer than a terrorist. I chose to fight the only way I could, paying a price much heavier than death." He lowered his prosthesis, turning to Heero.

"Ask yourself, boy, are you willing to do the same? Do you have what it takes to sacrifice the needs of the few for the needs of the many? Your father made the wrong choice, sacrificing the many for the few, and now he must rectify his mistake. Can you honestly say that you're capable of doing the same?"

Heero gaped at the old man, having no definite answer to give him. He bowed his head down sadly, staring at his shoes.

"I don't know," he whispered contritely. "I'd like to think so, but I don't know."

"Then why won't you find out for yourself?" The old man said and Heero looked up, puzzled. He watched Jay reach into his lab coat pocket again. This time, the old man retrieved a small red keycard. He handed it to Heero. The boy stared at the red card uncertainly, before he reached carefully to accept it.

"It's getting quite late," Mr. Null said; "I think I better turn in for the night," he spoke cunningly, turning to leave.

Heero looked at the card in his hand. The name '**D-3**' was written on it in bold black letters.

"I do believe that your father will also be calling it a night soon..." the old man informed him casually as he walked away. Frowning at the hinted suggestion, Heero turned to look at the keycard again; the key that will undoubtedly give him access to whatever the CLO was hiding below deck.

He smiled to himself, clutching the keycard tightly.

**To be continued...**

* * *

[1] Interesting fact: according to the Frozen Teardrop novel, Trant Clark was the brother of Seis Clark (also an MS engineer), the man who was married to Heero's mother. Therefore, Trant is actually Heero's step-uncle. Talk about family matters...

[2] Episode 21: "Grief Stricken Quatre".

[3] In episode 17, "Betrayed by Home, Far Away", Dr. J is the last to be captured by OZ. Therefore, it stands to reason that Duo could have warned him after the others have already been captured.

[4] Reference to Duo's musing from episode 6, "Party Night".

[5] Referencing the Episode Zero manga.

[6] According to Frozen Teardrop, early in life Jay Null, AKA Dr. J, was a university friend of the politician Heero Yuy. Involved with anti-Alliance activities, he lost his arm as a result of a bomb planted by the Alliance.


	22. Act Three - Part 3

**A side note to my readers (whom I greatly appreciate): **I've decided to join people in the 21st Century and (finally!) opened a Tumblr account. Check me out on Tumblr: gundamwing-ellesmith.

* * *

**Paradox**

**Act Three**

**Part 3**

**October 23, AC 195, 2315 hours. **

**Somewhere deep within OZ's Lunar Base...**

After Heero had collapsed in the hallway, a group of OZ soldiers took the unconscious pilot to the brig, along with Quatre. Heero was thrown unceremoniously to the floor, Quatre was pushed in after him, and the prison cell door was slammed behind them loudly. A guard remained stationed by the cell so he could alert his commander the minute Heero woke up.

The boy has been dead to the world for over 18 hours, without showing any signs of waking up anytime soon. Quatre had laid him more comfortably on the only bunk in the small dark cell, and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall between the bunk and a stainless-steel toilet, staring ahead numbly and dozing off now and then.

He could only assume that Heero had been drugged, probably by his own superior, because whatever substance the young pilot had been given was doing a remarkable job keeping him under; one had to know the "perfect soldier" very well to be able to drug him like that. A lot could be said about the eccentric old man who had devoted years of his life to shape Heero into the closest thing to a perfect soldier as humanly possible. At first, Quatre thought it cruel of J to leave Heero so helpless while still being held by the enemy, but as the hours went by and he watched Heero's sleep turn from a heavy and exhausted slumber to a calm and more rested one, he realized that it was in fact an act of mercy. Heero needed this rest desperately, and OZ never would have given it to him. J has made certain that either party will be left with no other choice but to let Heero sleep.

Quatre must have drifted off again, because suddenly he jerked awake, flinging his head back up; he thought he had heard something. He ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, pushing it out of his tired eyes, and turned to the bed.

Heero was waking up, stirring and moaning quietly. His eyes opened partly to reveal thin slit of blue staring numbly ahead. The Wing pilot blinked groggily, struggling against the webs of sleep still engulfing him with drug-induced fuzziness. He moaned sleepily, moving his head against the thin pillow. He reached a heavy hand up, sliding it against the mattress, and wiped the drool from his chin. He had slept so soundly, that a pool of dribble had accumulated on the cushion.

Quatre smiled warmly at the boy, watching him quietly. After another minute or two, Heero finally managed to keep his eyelids open and turned his bleary blue eyes towards Quatre.

"How... long?" He croaked in a sleep-heavy voice.

"Close to twenty-four hours, I think," Quatre said and Heero seemed infuriated.

"That bastard," he grunted, pushing himself up with some effort. He sat up, looking around the cell. "Trant?" He asked, his eyes falling on the guard standing outside their cell. The young soldier was reporting something into his radio, no doubt telling his superiors that he was awake.

"He was _furious_," Quatre told Heero with a small, amused, smile.

"Hn," Heero let out something akin to a pleased grunt.

"They'll be coming for you soon," Quatre speculated, looking worriedly at Heero. "Are you up to it?"

The boy glared ahead at the wall in front of him, avoiding Quatre's concerned blue eyes.

"Let them come," Heero stated curtly. "ZERO doesn't worry me."

"It should," Quatre mumbled, looking away nervously.

* * *

**October 23, AC 195, 2330 hours. **

**Somewhere off the shores of Block Island...**

Heero made his way carefully below decks, trying to avoid being seen by the few personnel still walking about. Most of the crew have already retired for the night, and the narrow hallways deep within the large naval platform were dark and empty. There wasn't any need for security when solely among allies. Climbing down various ladders and shafts, Heero found his way down to the third deck. There, after some searching, he found a metal airlock door painted red, with big black letters spelling: **D-3**. He felt a little disappointed. He was expecting a massive door large enough to fit something as big as a Gundam through it; instead, it was just a personnel entrance.

There was a small electronic keycard lock panel by the door. Heero pulled out the magnetic-strip card Jay had given to him, and walked over to the panel. Looking around cautiously to make sure no one was there, he slipped the keycard through the slit.

There was a silent beeping, then the hushed hum of metal mechanisms shifting and finally a hiss of air releasing as the airlock door opened slightly agape. Heero hesitated for only a moment before reaching for the door and opening it fully. He hurried inside, closing the door behind him – and found himself standing at the entrance of a _huge_ hangar with a long rectangular launching silo sprouting from its ceiling, leading up to the surface. There was also a large moon pool at the back of the enormous hall, giving access to the water below. Like the launching shaft, the wet porch seemed large enough to fit a Gundam.

And, not surprisingly, that was exactly what he found when he turned his eyes to the center of the hangar. There, lying flat on its back, was a large winged Gundam. The fearsome mobile suit was absolutely magnificent; the most beautiful thing Heero had ever laid eyes on. Its most dominate color was a shiny new Ghost White, with red, yellow and blue highlights. It had massive wings, currently folded against the floor. Its immense hands were laid at its side, metal fists clenched. A large computer station was standing by its waistline, connected to the large mobile suit through many wires. The cockpit door was open, bulging up towards the ceiling. Many of the wires, as thick as shipyard ropes, went into the cockpit. This was a work in progress, Heero deduced; this was what his father was helping the CLO build.

He smirked, pleased beyond measure, and let out a quiet: "Cool."

* * *

**October 23, AC 195, 2345 hours. **

**Somewhere deep within OZ's Lunar Base...**

Heero jumped into Wing ZERO's cockpit, dozens of wires and electrodes pasted to his head. The wires, coming from somewhere outside the cockpit, were yanked roughly as the young pilot landed in the pilot's seat. His sharp blue eyes darted quickly towards the controls to study the strange consoles. He swept his eyes over the many interfaces, noting the differences between his Wing Gundam and this new model, the most obvious one being a 3-dimensional radar display right in front of him in the form of a large glass dome sticking out of the main control console. The dome-shaped screen was dark, as were the rest of the monitors. The Gundam hasn't been activated yet by the two Ozzies standing outside, but suddenly the dome-screen lit up on its own, glowing a bright blue. Heero stared at it, frowning in surprise.

"Heero, is there a problem?" Quatre's voice asked worriedly over the comm.

"Not really," he replied flatly, still frowning at the console that seemed to have a life of its own.

"Tell them to start," he said, his monotone voice betraying none of his doubt or confusion as he stared warily at the many code lines scrolling hastily over the radar screen.

Outside the cockpit, inside a large hangar, three figures stood on a bridge suspended at ZERO's waist-level: CTO Trant Clark, an OZ technician, and Quatre. The techy sat by a mobile computer station that was connected to ZERO's cockpit with dozens of wires. Trant stood over him, looking eagerly at the monitor, and Quatre was standing behind them, watching the two tensely.

"Right," Trant told his subordinate, "Make him fight against the Mobile Dolls data."

"Yes, sir," the techy obliged and started the simulation.

Blinking red dots appeared on Heero's 3D radar screen. He focused on the simulated battle, systematically eliminating the virtual targets one by one. There was no challenge in a simulated battle. It felt no different than a mere computer game where all he had to do was move his fingers and press a few buttons. A real battle was much more intense and strenuous. The whole test was invalid in his eyes, a joke, really. How could they ever hope to test the truly unique nature of the System when there wasn't even the slightest need for him to depend on it in such a laidback battle scenario?

"It's at a high level," the technician stated as he examined the data on the screen before him. Trant looked at the monitor too, disappointed. This wasn't enough.

Quatre was also looking at the screen, though he seemed tense, like he knew something bad was going to happen any second now.

"He isn't a Gundam pilot for nothing," the tech marveled, but Trant seems doubtful.

"He's better than the Mobile Dolls?" He questioned.

"He hasn't reached his limit _yet_," the technician reminded the man.

"Check his fastest reaction," Trant ordered; "Let's heat things up a bit, shall we? He isn't even breaking a sweat."

* * *

**October 23, AC 195, 2350 hours.**

**Somewhere off the shores of Block Island...**

Heero walked along the large Gundam slowly, tracing his hand over the cool metal as he circled the massive humanoid machine, fascinated. He studied every small detail with wide, mesmerized eyes, his hand gliding over the smooth metal in a slow, entranced manner.

Suddenly, he stopped, frowning. He thought he heard something. He stepped back from the Gundam, looking up while walking backwards. There was no one there. He turned to look over his shoulder, scanning the hangar, but it was empty, quiet. He thought he saw something out of the corner of his eyes – a light? He turned back to face the Gundam, watching it closely.

Nothing happened.

Then, the Gundam's eyes flashed a bright green.

Heero gasped in alarm, stumbling back a step. He gawked at the Gundam, feeling his heart thump strongly in his chest. Was it just him, or was this Gundam somehow... _beckoning_ him? [[1]]

* * *

**October 23, AC 195, 2400 hours. **

**Somewhere deep within OZ's Lunar Base...**

The simulation became more intense and Heero was beginning to feel the pressure. Countless blinking red dots filled the 3D screen. He could hardly keep up, his hands flying rapidly over the consoles, uselessly trying to compensate for his lack of speed by using both hands. Sweat broke on his forehead. The electrodes burned into his scalp. He was managing to keep his head above water, but just barely.

"These combat abilities are extremely high," the technician almost cheered while watching Heero's progress on the monitor. Among the many screens displayed, there was one monitoring Heero's brainwave function. So focused on his battel result, neither the techy nor his commander noticed that those waves were becoming erratic.

"This is amazing!" The techy called. "And he _still_ hasn't reached his limit!"

But Heero was certainly getting there. He was losing his mind to the cockpit system. He stared wide eyed at the flickering screen before him, flashing blue light washing over his face in a crazed beat. He gaped dazedly at the dancing red dots, utterly spellbound.

_Who... are..? _He began to wonder, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. _Who are my enemies? _He asked himself, but his mind came up empty, unable to supply him with an answer. His mind had gone completely blank, the battle disappearing from his mind's eyes. Alone in this mind-numbing darkness, he suddenly regained total clarity.

_My enemies are the ones after my life,_ Heero realized with greater conviction than ever before. It was all so clear to him now.

_My enemies are the ones after my life¸_ he reminded himself, _and the one who __**toy**__ with my life_!

Such chilling clarity. Everything made sense now. _Everything_. His enemies were everywhere, everyone. Dr. J has made that very clear. From the day he had picked him off the streets of L3-X18999 he had done nothing but toy with him and torment him. Today, he even left him in hands of the enemy, knowing that they will experiment on him. He was just a plaything, a _pawn_!

HE WAS SO SICK OF BEING A PAWN!

Wing ZERO's cockpit flooded with an eerie bright yellow light, swallowing its pilot. Heero lost himself to the anger, hurt, betrayal and humiliation caused by a lifetime of being toyed by people who expected him to do their evil bidding.

"They're _all_ my enemies!" He called out madly.

ZERO powered up, its green eyes glowing menacingly.

Trant and the techy whirled around calling – "What?!"

"Heero!" Quatre shouted, panicked.

But it was too late. The Wing ZERO pilot was already on a rampage.

* * *

**October 23, AC 195, 2400 hours.**

**Somewhere off the shores of Block Island...**

Heero jumped into ZERO's open cockpit, settling into the pilot's chair. Since the Gundam was lying facing upwards on the hangar floor, he was more or less lying on his back with his legs propped up on what was supposed to be the floor.

He looked around him, checking things out with a silly mecha-fanboy grin on his face. To think that he was sitting inside an _actual_ Gundam! How amazing it must be to be able to pilot such a powerful and sophisticated piece of machinery – the pinnacle of MS engineering!

His troubles forgotten, at least for the moment, the boy ran his hands over various consoles, trying to work out their purpose. He looked curiously at the dome-shaped screen directly in front of him, assuming that it was some kind of 3D radar display system. Fascinated, he reached to touch it. The moment his fingertips touched the cool glass surface, he felt a small electric jolt. Gasping, he yanked his hand back. All around him, consoles came to life. A bright yellow light flooded the cockpit.

* * *

**October 23, AC 195, 2405 hours. **

**Somewhere deep within OZ's Lunar Base...**

Flinging its massive arm up in the air, the Wing ZERO Gundam lowered it swiftly and slammed its fist into the bridge on which Trant, Quatre and the techy were standing. It tore it apart with one blow of its mighty arm. The three ran quickly to safe ground, heading for the deck to which the bridge was connected.

A Mobile Doll standing at the other side of the large hangar powered up. It took a shot at ZERO, but was quickly obliterated. Flames filled the hangar.

"Get me more Mobile Dolls!" Trant shouted, running away to safety along with his lackey.

Quatre didn't run. He stood, gripping the railing, and watched the chaos raging in front of him as Wing ZERO began to tear through the base.

"Heero..." he whispered worriedly.

More Mobile Dolls entered the fight, firing at ZERO. The Gundam blasted them with its shoulder cannons, then slashed them apart with its beam saber.

Quatre watched, horrified.

"No!" He realized, shouting, "You're _NOT _Heero!"

* * *

Everything was drowned by the bright yellow light.

The faint sound of a restless ocean could be heard rustling softly in the background. Heero could feel a cool and salty breeze tousling his hair, and soft sand beneath his suddenly-bare feet. Pleasant sunshine washed over him, tingling and warm. He could feel that he wasn't wearing any clothes. Was he naked?

The bright yellow light faded away slowly, leaving a picturesque view of a pristine strip of beach engulfed by grass-covered hills and tall bluffs stretching along the seashore. The rock-face was a combination of rustic yellowish and reddish earth-tones that looked like dancing fire. Surging bluish-gray waters washed upon the sand in foamy white currents. The ocean stretched as far as the eye could see.

This was his beach, Heero realized. He looked around, bemused, and wondered how he got there. His blue eyes widened slightly in surprise when he noticed that he wasn't alone. There was someone else standing on the beach, also looking around in confusion. It was a boy, naked just like him. There was no mistake; that boy – he _was_ him.

For some reason, Heero didn't find that shocking. If anything, he was intrigued. He walked towards the other boy, leaving footprints on the soft wet sand. The other boy must have noticed him, because he turned to face him, watching his approach with a strangely blank expression. The two identical teenage boys stood facing each other, gazing at one another curiously.

Studying his inexplicable twin, Heero noted that they even had similar bruising on the left side of their face; they've both taken a recent blow to the head. He reached up to touch his own left temple, where Junior had hit him with the back of his gun when they first met on the beach. He felt around the sore spot, looking at the other boy in wonder as his "twin" mirrored this action, feeling his own bruised face while gaping at him in interest.

Then, their eyes met, Prussian-blue gazes locking. Heero felt his heart clench excruciatingly, squeezing so tightly it might burst. He gasped painfully, staggering back a few steps. It hurt so much to look into that other boy's eyes. The second he did it, something changed. The beach became stormy, the wind picking up rapidly and the ocean raging riotously. The grass on the hills swayed strongly, rustling loudly like a pack of panicked wild birds. Ominous gray clouds rolled into the heavens. The dim roar of thunder vibrated over the beach. Electricity was in the air.

Heero's eyes darted back towards the other him. He had no doubt that all of this sudden ominousness was coming from his alter-self. So much turmoil was radiating from the boy, and the beach was a reflection of it. Heero wobbled under the powerful onslaught; a myriad of emotions, all screaming out in desperation and anguish. Such hopelessness! Such anger! Such fear!

_They're all my enemies!_ The other boy was thinking over and over, trapped inside this one horrible, relentless, thought.

The ocean surged. The skies darkened. Wind and rain raged all around them.

"Stop it!" Heero cried out, but his voice was swallowed by the howling wind. The boy couldn't hear him. All he was aware of were these horrible, _horrible_, thoughts and memories; sending out robust whiplashes of loneliness, grief, betrayal and pain. So much pain!

"STOP!" Heero begged him, falling to his knees against the sand. He was crying, tears sliding freely down his cheeks. He felt terribly for the boy.

"It's not all like that!" He cried, begging the boy to see things _his_ way. He tried to send out as much of his own experiences out there, aching to soothe the boy's tumult of emotions. He closed his eyes tightly, thinking hard on all those precious moments captured in the photos his dad had hung on the stairwell wall: winning his first soccer match, and his dad's warm embrace; going out for ice cream on the boardwalk by the beach, and his dad's sturdy arm wrapped around him; sitting at the helm of his dad's Cessna, and the warm touch of his father's hand as he laid it gently over his shoulder; the trip to New York City and his dad's rolling laughter after that bird had soiled his head... So many memories, so much laughter, love, security and warmth... He could feel all of it flooding his chest with warm white light and he tried to send all of this light towards the other him.

He opened his eyes. The other boy had fallen to his knees as well, crouching on the sand in front of him. He was looking at him with tearful blue eyes, but didn't shed a tear. He seemed... thankful, even relieved somehow.

He offered his alter-self a small smile. All around them, the storm had calmed somewhat, but dark clouds still hovered above and the ocean waves still fumed.

The other him shivered and reached his hands up to hug himself, curling inwards and bowing his head chin against chest. He was shaking. No, he was _sobbing_, crying mutely. He was feeling so alone, so lost.

_I've been lost since the day I was born..._ The boy was thinking sadly, and Heero felt his pain wholeheartedly. He remembered; he remembered what it felt like to live with a mother who didn't even seem to know he existed, with a step-father who was all too keen on torturing him, and then his life was turned upside-down when he ended up living with a man who utilized him as a weapon and not much else. He had been lost for so long, but not too lost to be saved. Duo saved him. He became his father, his salvation; a tourniquet to stop the bleeding from his heart. This boy, this other him, wasn't as lucky. He's been fighting this war since the day he was born, and was desperately trying to hold on to it all, but he was so lost...

Desperate to help him, Heero pulled the other boy towards him, drawing his alter-self into a strong embrace. He leaned his head against the other him, forehead to forehead, and looked into the boy's tearful blue eyes. The two peered into each other's soul, sharing memories of two very different lifetimes in a split of a second.

Heero felt his other-self's pain, his utter hopelessness, and thought back on the last two months, trying to communicate more positive feelings. He shared his most recent experiences, the formation of his first friendship; memories of learning to trust, finding acceptance and understanding... his bond with Relena.

His alter-self gaped at him numbly, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He seemed perplexed when he encountered feelings of another kind, beyond friendship. Heero smiled sheepishly through his own tears, nodding his head to confirm. The other him smiled back, just a small, grateful tug on his lips. He understood.

The ocean calmed, the skies gradually clearing. The storm had passed. The two identical boys remained locked in an embrace, sitting on the sand.

Somewhere out there, beyond the boundaries of Heero Maxwell's world, Gundam pilot Heero Yuy stumbled and fell out of Wing ZERO's cockpit, engulfed by an eerie yellow glow. He crashed at the foot of his Gundam, looking up dazedly as he envisioned an apparition of Relena Darlian. He fainted, mumbling her name.

* * *

In the alternate timeline, Duo Maxwell, 35, was lying on his bunk in his quarters located on Deck 1 of the Winner naval platform. He had finished his work in the D-3 hangar about half an hour ago, close to midnight. Assuming that his son was already asleep in his own quarters (and maybe because it was very convenient to believe so when he didn't really feel like facing the boy right now), he went straight to his quarters to get some rest. He lay on his back, hands tucked under his head, gazing dully at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He couldn't; not when he was agonizing over the fact that Heero, _his_ Heero, was still out there... still doomed to die a useless premature death one day and he was helpless to stop it!

The man he loved was still out there. He couldn't get past that. He had learned to make his peace with the loss over the years, taking comfort in giving Heero the childhood he never had, but now... Now his agony reached a whole new level; a hurt far greater than the deep mourning he had felt after losing his lover that night in New York City; and even worse than the terrible sense of hopelessness he had felt the night he realized that by preventing eight-year-old Heero from going with Dr. J, he was dooming the man he had loved to never have existed at all. Twice he had grieved for Heero, and now... now Heero was alive again. Granted, he was out of reach – a universe away and two decades younger – but still... it was _his _Heero, and he was still alive.

It was wrong of him to think of that Heero as _"his Heero"_; his adopted son was no less his, and yet, he couldn't deny that there was a difference. His Heero came first, in a sense that he was the first Heero he had loved. Duo wanted to believe that the love for his son was just as strong, but it was love of a different kind, one that couldn't, by nature, rival the love he had felt for the original Heero.

It was somewhat acceptable to feel that way when the person he considered _his_ Heero was dead. The two loves never had to rival each other, and now he found himself putting them against each other, despite their inherent differences. Now, knowing that somewhere out there beyond the physical boundaries of the world in which he lived, Heero was still walking among the living, something changed. Duo didn't know what to make of these feelings; they tormented him in an impossible way, one that no human being has ever had to deal with thus far. Was this the price one had to pay for breaking the fundamental laws of the universe?

His troubled musings were interrupted by a violent tremor running through the ocean rig. Chaos soon followed, as the whole station switched to Red Alert.

Duo bolted out of bed, running out the door. He bumped into Howard in the hallway.

"What's going on?!" He shouted over the rumpus of sirens blaring.

"Someone broke into D-3!" Howard shouted back; the two were running down the hall. "They're after the ZERO Gundam!"

By the time they reached the D-3 hangar, they were joined by more CLO men, as well as Dr. J, Junior and Quatre. They ran inside and stopped short – shocked to see the Wing ZERO Gundam standing on its feet all powered up. Only Dr. J seemed pleased, smirking to himself.

"Is it armed?" Duo asked Howard anxiously.

"The weapons haven't been fitted yet, but it can still smash its way out of here!"

Looking up, they could see that the cockpit door was open. Someone was in the pilot seat.

"Is that _Heero_?!" Junior called in disbelief.

"WHAT?!" Duo gasped in alarm, whirling his head around to look at the cockpit. Junior was right.

"Heero!" He shouted at the cockpit. "What are you doing?!"

There was no response. The Gundam wasn't moving either; it was just... standing there. Panicked, Duo ran over to its massive feet and climbed up quickly and expertly to the cockpit. He found Heero sitting sprawled on the pilot's chair, his head lolled aside and his body limp as though unconscious. But the boy's blue eyes were wide open, staring ahead unseeingly.

"Heero!" Duo cried fearfully, reaching to touch his son. The boy didn't stir.

"Heero!" He tried again, rocking his son gently.

No response.

"Heero! Heero! Wake up!" He begged, shaking Heero roughly now, desperate for a reaction. The boy collapsed limply into his arms for he had been rocked so hard. His eyes fluttered shut and he slumped against Duo heavily.

Afraid for his son, Duo embraced the boy closely, caressing his hair as he rocked Heero gently as though soothing a baby. He cried, shedding tears over his son.

"Oh God, Heero... what have you done?"

* * *

Heero woke up lying in a room with blue walls. He stared at them dully, unable to think. His mind buzzed unpleasantly and his body felt heavy and numb against the soft mattress. A piercing migraine was pulsing in his temples. He tried to figure out how come he was suddenly lying in a comfortable bed, but all he could come up with was this hissing static buzzing loudly in his head. Ignoring the blaring pain, Heero sat up slowly. He looked around in confusion, gaping dazedly at the blue room. What was he doing here?

Flinging the cover aside, he sprung out of bed, taking a moment to steady himself; he had moved too fast, too soon, and the headache turned into a nasty dizzy-spell. His knees felt terribly weak, shaking. He was cold, but sweaty. Looking down at himself, he saw that he was wearing comfortable black sweat pants and a plain gray cotton shirt with long sleeves. He frowned at himself, feeling strangely out of place. Who changed his clothes?

He looked up at the room again. There were colorful posters on the cobalt blue walls, sporting vibrant images of various spaceships, space stations and all sort of dramatically posing heroes. He roamed around the room for a moment, looking at all the different belongings scattered everywhere. His eyes fell on wall-mounted display case hanging above a small writing desk; it was full of plastic scale-models of various mobile suits, the most notable one being a model of the old OZ-06MS-SN3 Leo-N model from the late AC 70s – completely identical to the one he used to have when he was a small child. He gawked at it in bewilderment for a moment, before his forehead creased with a thoughtful frown. Could this be mere coincidence?

Confused, he turned around slowly to face the window next to him. He shifted the white drapes aside, and stared astounded at the view. The window overlooked a beautiful blue bay surrounded by green meadows. An endless gray sky stretched up above. What?!

He moved away from the window, scowling at the strange blue room. Heading to the door, he stopped by a small desk which was also a computer station. His eyes fell on a small stuffed penguin doll sitting by the monitor. He had a strange urge to caress it, and reached to run the tips of his fingers over its furry little head. He blinked, pulling back a little in surprised. He didn't know what came over him. He turned away from the little penguin.

He found a pair of muddy soccer shoes and socks lying discarded by the door. He put them on, and walked out of the room.

There was a staircase down the hall, so he headed there. After stepping down only one step, he stopped, gaping at the stairwell wall. A picture gallery hung on the wall next to him, at least a dozen photos of smiling father and son. He turned to one of the photos, one of father and son standing in front of a green soccer field, the boy waving a trophy up in the air, grinning a toothless smile at the camera while his father had his hand wrapped around him, smiling proudly.

Heero cocked his head aside curiously, his eyes focused on the little boy's smiling face. He reached his hand up slowly and touched the photo carefully, as though making sure it was really there. He ran his finger over the little boy's face, awestruck by his cheerful smile. This was _his_ face... but it couldn't possibly be his face.

His eyes then traveled slowly, dazedly, towards the father's smiling face. His lips parted in surprise; he gaped numbly at the face of a thirty-something Duo Maxwell smiling carelessly at the camera. He almost reached his hand up to touch the photo again, but then quickly stopped himself, withdrawing his hand quickly. He clenched his fist tightly behind his back, his posture tensing visibly. He turned stiffly and continued climbing slowly down the stairs, studying each picture in stunned silence.

When he reached the bottom of the staircase, he heard faint noises coming from another room. Walking there, he found the kitchen. Someone was there, standing by the worktop with her back facing the entrance; it was a girl, a very familiar teenage girl with sandy-blonde hair. She was wearing oversized clothes that clearly belonged to a boy, but there was no mistaking her identity; he'd recognize her anywhere.

"Relena?" He croaked her name out quietly. His voice was heavy and rough from sleep.

The blonde girl turned to him with a kind smile.

"Heero," she greeted. "You're finally awake. Are you feeling better?"

He stared at her, dazed, and then frowned warily.

"How did I get here?" He asked, suspicious.

"Duo brought you home," the girl said; "he said that it wasn't safe for you on the rig."

"Duo?" Heero mumbled numbly; he seemed perplexed. "Home?" He asked suspiciously, frowning in confusion; "Do you mean some kind of safe house?"

"_Safe house_?" Relena grimaced at the odd reference. "Heero, are you sure you're alright?"

"I..." He looked around, a bit shell-shocked. "There... there are pictures... on the wall..." he mumbled, turning to her with a wretched expression; "I... I don't... understand." His eyes seemed to beg her to make sense of all of this. "What _rig_? What... Where..?"

"Maybe you should go back to bed," Relena suggested softly, stepping closer to him. "That ZERO Gundam really did a number on you... God, Heero, what were you thinking?"

"...ZERO?" He echoed numbly, surprised that she knew about it. "How..." He frowned at her, baffled; "Who..?"

Relena studied the boy with worried blue eyes, noting his obvious distress. "Heero," she said his name softly and took a step closer. "Let's get you back to bed," she offered, raising her hand towards him, "You seem overwhelmed," she added worriedly and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, wishing to soothe him.

Heero jerked back, slapping her hand away.

The girl gawked at him, stunned by his extreme reaction. "Heero, what's wrong?" She asked uneasily, looking at him with slight apprehension; "How can I help?"

"I... I don't know..." He mumbled, walking backwards and looking around anxiously. "What... is this?" He asked shakily, still retreating until he bumped against the kitchen wall. He stood tensely against the wall, looking at Relena wretchedly.

"This is... wrong," he told her, his eyes welling with tears of distress. "I feel too much," he whispered miserably, feeling his knees shaking strongly and his heart racing in his chest, overcome by this paralyzing feeling. "I'm scared," he moaned, horrified, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Heero..." Relena whispered gently, moving towards him with arms open wide.

"Something is wrong!" He shouted suddenly, grabbing his head. "I shouldn't _be_ scared!"

"Heero..." she tried to soothe, reaching to touch him.

He grabbed her wrist, clutching it tightly. He was panicking.

"Heero, _let go!_" She shouted, trying to yank her hand out of his powerful grip. "You're _hurting_ me!"

"What is this?!" He yelled at her, his blue eyes wild. "What kind of a trick _is _this?!"

Just then, the front door flung open and Duo came running into the house. He had heard the screaming from the front porch.

"Heero!" He called out, hurrying to pry the boy's arm off Relena and come between them. "What the hell are you doing?!"

The boy stood still, gaping up at the tall man with wide, stunned, blue eyes.

Relena scurried to the other side of the kitchen. She rubbed her aching wrist, looking fearfully at Heero.

The front door was still open. Dr. J, who had been walking at a slower pace behind Duo, stepped into the kitchen. Seeing him, Heero lost it completely. He pushed Duo away from him violently and ran towards J, pouncing at the old man and knocking him down to the floor.

"You!" He shouted accusingly as he sat straddling the old man, keeping him pinned to the floor. "You bastard!" He called, punching the floorboard by the old man's head.

"You fucking _LEFT_ me there! You left me with that psychopath Trant! You—! You—! I should fucking _KILL _you!"

The old man, who's had the wind knocked out of him, coughed weakly on the floor. "What the hell is he talking about?!" He grunted at Duo.

But Duo was too stunned to answer. He gaped at Heero, who was sitting on top of Dr. J, fuming with rage, and he couldn't move.

"He... he's talking about... the other timeline," he mumbled dully, unable to believe his own words. "He thinks... he's..." A lump lodged in his throat, stopping him from completing the sentence. He felt faint, staggered, and almost fell against the kitchen table. This wasn't his son. This was Heero... _hi_s Heero.

_Oh God._ Duo felt like he was going to pass out.

* * *

**To be continued...**

**Author's Note:** Now, before you go grimacing _'urgh...'_ over Heero's behavior in this last part, please bear in mind that there's a perfectly good explanation to his emotional outburst, which you can probably figure out on your own if you give some thought to what I wrote about him (the original Heero Yuy, not Heero Maxwell) in previous chapters. In any case, all will be made clear in the next chapter – coming soon! ^_^

Elle

* * *

[1] In episode 44 of the anime, "Go Forth, Gundam Team", ZERO's eyes light up while Heero is working on it in the Peacemillion hangar, and Heero actually _speaks back _to the Gundam! Freaky.


	23. Act Three - Part 4

**IMPORTANT – PLEASE READ:** **I've entered my GW fanfic Left Unsaid to a fanfic novel contest on Inkitt: .com [slash] stories [slash] 46027**

If you've read it and found it interesting, then I'd greatly appreciate your support. If you can spread the word to someone you know who's also read it, then I'll be eternally grateful. I need every vote I can get, because this contest is open to ALL fandoms, and sadly, the GW fandom is dwindling with each passing day. We fans need to stick together! ^_^

Deadline for voting is December 22nd.

Thank you for your support.

Happy Holidays!

Elle

* * *

**Paradox**

**Act Three**

**Part 4**

It took Dr. J a total of two seconds to grasp the implications of what Duo had just said. Since the younger man had fallen completely silent, staring ahead in shock, Jay realized that it was up to him to get the crazed teenage boy off of him.

"Heero Yuy!" He shouted at the boy.

Heero froze, gaping at him, but didn't move away.

"Heero Yuy –" Jay ordered firmly, "Cease and desist _at once!_"

The boy continued to stare down at him numbly. He was still straddling the old man, but his whole body was shaking visibly.

"Get off of me!" Jay barked, pushing the boy with his metal right hand; the boy wouldn't budge. "That's an _order_, Zero-One!"

Heero jerked away, scrambling to his feet and stepping away from Jay. He bowed his head, staring at the floor in silent shame.

Dr. J got up slowly, groaning.

Relena stepped closer carefully, looking worriedly at her friend.

"Why did you call him that?" She asked Jay.

"Because that's the only name he will respond to," the old man said. He turned to Heero sternly. "Isn't it, _Zero-One?_"

"This is... wrong," Heero mumbled at the floor. Slowly, he raised his head to look at Dr. J. Tears shone in his distressed blue eyes. He seemed... lost.

"I shouldn't feel this much," he whispered wretchedly, as though asking for Jay's help.

The old man studied the boy sympathetically. "That's because I never tampered with your brain in this reality," he explained gently; "here, you're free to feel as much as you like."

"How do I stop it?" Heero asked miserably, his eyes begging for salvation from his own blustery heart.

"You can't," Dr. J said softly, stepping closer to the boy. He placed his one human hand on the boy's shoulder, smiling at him. "And you shouldn't."

Heero gaped at the man, shocked to be treated so kindly by the person who was supposed to be his superior.

"I don't understand," he murmured, "What is this place?"

"An alternate reality," Duo finally found his voice and said, stepping away from the kitchen table. "One I created when I came back for you... twelve years from now."

"What?" Heero was dumbfounded. He spun around to face the man, stupefied as he stared at this strange older version of Duo Maxwell.

"You said you were with Trant," Duo said slowly, looking sternly at the boy and trying to maintain a professional façade; it was the best way to get through to Heero... his Heero.

"Yes," Heero replied warily.

"I know Trant," Duo told him; "He's the Ozzie obsessed with the ZERO System."

"Yes," Heero confirmed again, looking at Duo cautiously. "He wanted to test the System on me."

Duo nodded. "Yes, I remember. It was right after Quatre went bananas and blew up a whole damn colony," he said; "you told me about that."

"I did?" Heero frowned, still confused.

"You will," Duo smiled helplessly.

Now Heero just seemed lost again. "What?"

"Hmm... this is very interesting indeed," Jay muttered thoughtfully, rubbing his long beard. "Somehow, the ZERO System connected the two realities. What an amazing coincidence!" He marveled; "What are the odds that the two versions of Heero will activate Wing ZERO at the exact same point in time? The timelines merged, using ZERO as the interface."

"So where is _our _Heero?" Relena asked worriedly; "Is he out there, in that other timeline? Stuck in a middle of a war he knows nothing about?"

"Could be," Jay said pensively. "The two could have swapped places somehow," he speculated.

"If he is out there," Duo added grimly, "then he must still be unconscious," he said, trying to convince himself more than anyone else that his son was all right. "Quatre once told me what happened after Heero lost it on the moon. He was unconscious for three days. Quatre took him back to Earth."

"This could mean that the lights are off because there's no one home," the old man conjectured. "It might be possible that only his _consciousness_ traveled here. [[1]] Do you realize what this _means_?" Jay was practically beaming; Duo, however, seemed greatly disheartened.

"That it's all part of established events," he deduced miserably, sighing. "Heero lost consciousness back then, because he was here for three days. He was already here once."

"_Astounding, _isn't it!" Dr. J exclaimed enthusiastically. "You might have been right about changing history, Mister Maxwell. It looks as though your travel back in time already played a part in you pilots winning the war over at the other timeline."

"Do you mean," Relena interjected, "that Heero must have returned with Duo's intelligence reports? With knowledge of the future?"

"I hesitate to say," the old man admitted. "That would be a paradox, and as we already established, the universe would rather split itself in two than allow such contradictions to occur."

"Meaning _what_, exactly?" Heero demanded to know, turning to glower at the old man impatiently.

Dr. J smirked. "Let me put it this way:" he said, "Imagine a time traveler who has a passion for the works of Johann Sebastian Bach. Say this man decides to travel back to 18th century Germany to meet his hero, alas he can't find him anywhere. No one's heard of Bach, not even his family. The time traveler panics. He can't _bear_ the thought of a world without the brilliant composer's music. Luckily, he'd brought all his Bach music sheets for Johann to sign. So he copies out all the concertos and the symphonies... and he gets them published. He _becomes_ Bach. And history continues as it had before. Now, my question is this: Who put those notes and phrases together? Who _really_ composed Bach's Four Orchestral Suites?" [[2]]

"You're talking about point of origin," Heero concluded.

"That's right," Jay said, nodding his head pleasingly at the clever boy's insight. "This is called _The Bootstrap Paradox_ – when a future event is the cause of a past event, which in turn is the cause of the future event. Both events exist in spacetime, but their origin cannot be determined."

"What's your point, doc?" Duo asked impatiently.

"My point is, that when Heero does manage to go back, as we all know he does three days from now, he probably won't remember any of his experiences here, because otherwise—"

"A paradox," Duo sighed the words out resignedly.

"Precisely," Jay affirmed. "Then again," he added musingly, "I can only assume that his time here has had _some _sort of Butterfly Effect on the other timeline... changed him somehow, perhaps."

"Enough speculation," Heero grumbled, glaring at the old man. "How do I get back?"

"I believe I'll have the answer for you in three days, young man," Jay sneered cunningly at the boy.

"Then get to it," Heero said, clearly irate. "And you," he turned to Duo, glowering. "You can start by filling me in on what's the current situation in this timeline."

"Da _Hell_ I am!" Duo burst angrily; "If you're planning to fight, then _forget_ it! It's not what you do here!"

"No one is asking for your opinion, Maxwell," Heero rebuked him in a cold monotone voice. "You've done enough damage, so just tell me what I need to know."

"On the contrary, _Heero_," Duo droned nastily, "Right now, my opinion is the only one that counts, because you see, here, in _this _universe, _you_ listen to _me,_ because in _this_ universe, you're my son by_ law_!"

"You are one sick son of a bitch, Maxwell," Heero smirked meanly at the man; "I think there are websites listing where people like you live."

"Don't take that tone with me, mister!" Duo roared; old habits dying hard. "I say you stay _da fuck_ away from this war – and that's _exactly _what you'll do! I didn't start this mess so you could go diving back in like nothing else matters! You sit tight, you hear me?! This is _not _your fight, and this is _not_ your body, and you _can't_ risk a life that isn't _yours_! This is my _son_ you're talking about for Christ's sake!"

"I am not your son, you deluded maniac," Heero said flatly, his sharp blue eyes regarding Duo coldly; "Stop delusioning yourself. It's pathetic."

"Heero!" Relena exclaimed, disturbed by the boy's callousness. Dr. J seemed rather fascinated with the whole thing. And Duo, he would have found the harsh words offensive, but then again, he never expected anything else from his Heero. He smirked smugly at the boy.

"Hm," he let out cynically, "that's exactly how you should be at this point," he told him, "but believe me, Heero, I never let that bother me. I've known you _asshole_ for _two_ lifetimes, so nothing you say here can get to me. You _will_ do as I say, or so help me God I will have you put away until we solve this whole mess."

"I'd like to see you try," the boy snarled at him spitefully, blue eyes glowering, but Duo wasn't fazed by those cold hard eyes. He stood his ground, his whole body tense as he glared firmly at his so— at Heero.

"My son is an excellent athlete, but he's nowhere nearly as strong as you're used to being." He sneered artfully; "I'll take you out in a second. Try me."

Heero's glare only intensified at hearing Duo's daring tone. He stood rigidly, fists clenched at his sides, and scowled at Duo fiercely. Duo glared right back at him; a game of chicken. One could see in Heero's eyes how he was calculating his odds, weighing different factors against a desired outcome. Finally, he let out an annoyed grunt and whirled around abruptly, stomping to the door.

The minute the _"perfect soldier"_ left the kitchen, Duo's whole posture sagged, tension dissipating from his shoulders. He slumped against the kitchen table, his heart hammering in his chest. He needed to get away, because any second now, he was going to fall apart.

* * *

Heero ran. At first, he had walked, simply stomping angrily down the dirt road leading away from the tattered old country house he had suddenly found himself in, but at some point his pace quickened, growing faster and faster, from a light sprint to a fervent run. Something inside him burned wildly, urging him to keep running. He soon found himself on a narrow asphalt road winding through green meadows. With every passing mile he could see more and more of the ocean, until nothing but big grayish-blue flanked both sides of the road.

It started to rain. Heero kept running speedily, passing through the barren streets of a sleepy American town. The body he was currently occupying was in excellent shape; it was used to such strenuous activity, but it was also full of raging hormones and uninhibited emotion, nuisances Dr. J had inoculated him against in the other timeline. Now, however, he could not escape this tumultuous burn. He felt as though he was on fire inside; he couldn't run fast enough. He pushed himself to the limit, running past the bare old town, and followed the road curving along the cliffs towering over the coastline.

The rain had soaked through his clothes; the black sweats and gray shirt clinging to his body. His bangs were matted over his forehead, obscuring his eyes. He was dripping water, freezing in the cold wind, but the burn would not wane.

He wiped his soaked bangs aside, panting shallowly while he ran. He was beginning to reach this body's limit. He estimated he must have covered at least five miles; not a long distance for such a fit body, but he had demanded too much of this body by covering this distance as fast as he had. He slowed down to a quick walk, allowing his cardiovascular function to recover. He walked about another half mile, gazing numbly at the stormy ocean to his left, before he stopped, leaning forward with his hands against his thighs, mouth gaping open to catch his breath.

He rose slowly to his full height, wiping water from his forehead with the back of his hand. His eyes fell on the beach below. Standing up on the road, he could see the unique rock-face a few more hundred feet down the road, its shades bearing a striking resemblance to dancing flames. He knew this place.

Walking off the road, he found a small path of trampled grass leading down the grassy hills towards the beach below. He hiked down, walking along the shoreline until he reached the part of the beach surrounded by the fiery cliffs. He stopped, standing in the middle of the stretch of sand between the cliff-side and the ocean. He stared numbly at the fire-like rock face. Something about this place was disturbingly familiar.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the salty ocean air. Cold wind caressed his face. The ocean swooshed loudly in the background. He remembered.

Memories flooded him all at once; images flickering through his mind so fast he couldn't keep up with the array of snapshot images. A myriad of emotions, all so alien, so potent and raw... a lifetime shared with him in this place, somewhere in a dream...

It burned. All of his senses were being assaulted by things he never felt before, yet somehow, he has. Desperate to make the burn stop, Heero ran into the ocean. The water was freezing. He dove right in and disappeared beneath the rampant waves, trying to drown the fire.

* * *

Dropping his car keys against the polished bar surface, Duo mounted his regular stool at Poor People's Pub. His black leather jacket with sprinkled with rain; his long braid a touch wet. He sighed, pushing a strand of wet hair out of his eyes. Daphne, the bartender, came to welcome him.

"Been a couple of days," she greeted, opening a bottle of Jameson whiskey; "I was beginning to think you've gone sober," she finished with a sarcastic joke, pouring the man a glass of whiskey on the rocks. "How's that prodigal son of yours doing?" She asked, smirking, as she served him the glass.

"Don't ask..." The man muttered bitterly and took a long sip, emptying the glass quickly. He slammed it on the bar, looking miserably at Daphne.

"Just pour me another one..." He sighed. "And keep 'em comin'..."

* * *

The sun was setting behind a veil of thick gray clouds. Heero sat on the sand hugging his knees, his clothes and hair saturated, clinging to his skin. He was leaning his chin over his kneecaps, staring numbly ahead at the dwindling sunlight melting into the vast gray ocean. His skin was pale with cold, his lips blue, but at least the irksome burn was finally gone. The cold had numbed him, body and soul. His senses dulled, he didn't even notice someone was approaching, until a person was standing right next to him.

"I thought I'd find you here." He heard Relena's voice say softly.

"How's that?" He asked without ever turning to face her, his eyes locked on the horizon. He lowered his arms down, no longer hugging his knees, and sprawled his legs forward over the sand, leaning back against two sturdy arms.

The girl shrugged her shoulders gently, smiling. "You always come here," she replied plainly and he scowled, finding her words annoyingly inaccurate.

"May I join you?" She asked, but was already sitting down on the sand next to him, knowing his silence was his acquiescence. The two sat side by side, watching daylight dwindle into night.

"You knew who I was," Relena said after a while, speaking carefully. She turned to look at Heero, studying the boy's handsome profile closely. "Does that mean we know each other in your timeline?"

"We do," he confirmed briskly, never tearing his eyes away from the ocean ahead.

"Then what's the other me like?" She asked with a small curious smile.

"Foolish, reckless and hardheaded," he muttered in disdain and Relena chuckled.

"Not much different, then," she joked and could have sworn she caught a glimpse of his smile, before his features hardened once more. She smiled to herself, turning to look at the water.

They sat quietly for a while, listening to the waves. Relena waited for him to speak, perhaps enquire about his alter-self, but he didn't. She sighed, losing patience.

"Aren't you going to ask?" She turned to him inquisitively. "You must be curious, right? About the other you."

Heero didn't answer. His hard blue eyes remained focused solely on the waves washing upon the sand.

"Really?" She marveled. "Not even a little bit?"

"I already know what he's like," Heero replied quietly, watching the waves caress the sand. "He shared it with me. I think he's somewhere here with me."

"And?"

"And what?" He almost sounded annoyed, Relena noted; finally, some genuine emotion! It wasn't hard to see the difference between this Heero and her friend. They were both very stiff, but this boy's stiffness was in a cold, callous manner; unlike her Heero who was also very tense, but in a more nervous, introvert fashion.

"What do you think of him?" She asked, curious.

"Why does it matter what I think of him?" The boy replied flatly, his eyes never turning to look at her.

Relena had to take a moment to think; she honestly didn't know why she was grilling Heero with such questions. Maybe she wanted some confirmation that the boy she knew was no less great than this war torn hero sitting next to her; or, maybe all she really wanted was to hear was that this soldier envied the life of the boy she knew as a friend, thus validating the life they had here on the island as the better choice. How shameful of her to think that way. She shouldn't belittle this other Heero's life, nor theirs. Both should be just as significant.

"You're right," she said, looking away shamefully. "It shouldn't matter."

"Hn," Heero let out this unintelligible sound, perhaps to signal that he was pleased with her conclusion.

Silence fell between them for a while longer. The last rays of sunlight now gone under the horizon, the skies turned a dark blue. A patch of sky had cleared over the water in the far west, the Evening Star twinkling brightly within it.

"Are we friends?" Relena wondered, turning to look at Heero.

"I don't have any friends," he answered bluntly, never looking away from the black ocean in front of him.

"Hmm," she let out thoughtfully, not buying it. Duo obviously cared for him on the other timeline too. "What am I to you then?" She asked instead.

"A nuisance." He sighed, drawing his legs back up to his chest, hugging them as he had before. He rested his chin on his kneecaps, gazing ahead at the ocean. "A target," he added solemnly.

"Were you trying to kill me?" Relena asked, surprised.

"Not recently, no."

She laughed at his deadpan manner. "Well that's comforting!" She giggled. "I don't know," she smirked at him playfully, "something tells me that if I were on your _black list_, I'd already be dead."

"Hn," he grunted, perhaps in agreement.

"But I'm not," she pointed out.

Heero ignored her, staring at the sea.

"Why?" She pressed.

"You're important," he muttered nonchalantly.

"To you? Or to the world?"

"...both, I suppose."

His earnestness surprised her; then again, this Heero didn't strike her as the type to prevaricate and beat around the bush. He was blunt, but frank; genuine in a very refreshing way, because he possessed a kind of clarity many people seemed to lack. He knew what he felt about something, and he wasn't afraid to dish it out as it was. She liked that.

Suddenly, she was seeing Heero in a whole new light... but this wasn't Heero, at least not the one she knew. They seemed so much alike, and yet... they were so different. She couldn't quite put her finger on it yet, but there was something very... _unique_... about this boy; something powerful, pulling her in. Whatever it was, it was absolutely captivating. It made her feel something she never felt in Heero's presence before; suddenly, she was all _giddy_ inside. She was intrigued.

"How so?" She asked softly and Heero sighed quietly, moving his arms behind him so he could lean on them, sitting Indian style. He clawed at the wet sand, grapping a fistful, and turned his thoughtful gaze up to the night sky.

"You restored the Sanc Kingdom," he told her, gazing at the sky; "You bring people hope for peace."

"Does that include you as well?" She wondered.

Heero stared at the sky quietly. He didn't say anything for a while, so Relena sighed resignedly and turned to look at the water, giving him some time. She had pried too much.

"I saw you," he suddenly said, his quiet voice surprising her. She turned to him curiously. The boy was still gazing thoughtfully at the heavens.

"When?"

"Before I woke up here," he said and finally turned to face her. "ZERO showed me an image of you. Or rather, the Relena from my timeline."

"What do you think it means?"

"That there's still hope," he said quietly, looking at her intensely. "There were visions of blood and pain, overwhelming me, and then... there was you. There was peace. I could finally let go."

"And then you woke up here?"

He nodded slowly and turned to look at the sea, heaving a quiet sigh.

"Maybe I shouldn't have let go," he said quietly; he almost sounded guilty. He turned to look at her with a grimacing, disturbed, expression. "Do you suppose this counts as running away?" He asked, as though ashamed to say that he willingly chose to leave the battlefield and travel here, away from his burdening role.

"I think it means you're tired," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. She was touched that he cared enough to ask. Her opinion seemed to matter to him; just like it did to her Heero...

"But that doesn't mean you chose to run away," she offered, "You didn't choose to come here. It was out of your control."

"I was angry," he admitted uneasily, looking away to avoid her punitive gaze. "I was angry with everyone, everything. They toy with my life and they play me like a pawn, and I... I wanted out of that sick game." He sighed, balling a handful of sand in his fist and crushing it tightly.

"So you think that you _did_ choose this?"

Heero paused to gaze at the sea, pondering her question. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the waves, and thought back on the vision ZERO had shown him at this very beach. He shuddered internally as he vividly recalled how his alter-self had pulled him into a desperate embrace, trying to offer him solace, and how he had melted into that embrace willingly, somehow merging into his other-self's existence, thus emerging on this alternate timeline.

"I might have," he mumbled guiltily, opening his anguished blue eyes. He was still holding a fistful of sand in his hand. He released it slowly and watched it pile on the ground. "I don't know," he added thoughtfully, "I just... wanted to get away from all the anger."

"Are you mad at Duo too?" Relena asked, studying him carefully.

"He's an idiot," Heero grunted in dismay and turned his glowering eyes at the ocean; "He shouldn't have done what he had."

"He did it for you."

"Which is why I think he's an idiot."

She laughed, enjoying his dry sense of humor (although she doubted he intended to be funny).

"He does love you, you know," she said after her laughter subsided.

"No, I don't know." Heero stated bleakly, turning his harsh blue eyes at her. "I barely know him."

"You will, though. In the future."

"As it stands, it's hard to believe I have a future."

"Then isn't it comforting to know for certain that you do?"

He seemed stumped by her question, turning slowly to look at the ocean again. "I don't know if _comforting_ is the right word for it," he said quietly.

Relena nodded in understanding, turning her head back to the ocean as well.

* * *

Duo groaned miserably as he set his empty whiskey glass on the bar, wobbling drunkenly, as it was his fifth shot of whiskey. Daphne looked at him worriedly as she poured him his sixth.

"There's only one reason you'd drink like that so early into the night," she observed wisely, "and that is a broken heart." She handed him the glass.

"Heh," he scoffed and emptied it in one gulp. "Try crushed brutally to tiny little pieces..." he grumbled and slammed the glass on the bar. He pointed at it, asking for more. The blonde bartender hesitated, but poured him another, this time only filling half the quaintly she usually poured.

"Care to talk about it?" She offered softly and Duo cackled, shaking his head.

"You wouldn't believe me if I did," he muttered and raised his seventh glass of whiskey. He sighed, leaning against the bar, his head swimming. "An old flame..." he mumbled, staring ahead numbly with bleary blue eyes; "A _blast _from the _past_..." He chuckled drunkenly at his own private joke.

Daphne regarded the young father apprehensively. "So bad that you have to drink yourself to death in my bar?"

"Wouldn't that be a way to go?" He muttered to himself, closing his aching eyes. "Liver poisoning sounds way better than any other offer waiting on the table..."

"Should I be worried?" The middle-aged woman asked jokingly, but Duo turned to her with such a grim face, that the smile quickly faded from her lips.

"What am I saying?" She mumbled uncomfortably and poured herself a glass of whiskey. "It's not like there wasn't this big scary battle a few miles off the shore a couple of days ago..." she murmured and emptied the whiskey quickly; "Feels like the end of the world." Sighing, she set her glass down on the bar.

Duo chuckled cynically. "You have no idea..."

* * *

Rain clouds had drifted away to reveal a clear starry sky. The New Moon was completely in the sun's shadow, swallowed in black, leaving only starlight to illuminate the night. The beach was shrouded in thick darkness; the only source of light being the dim halo of New Shoreham's lights casting a ghostly orange glow into the heavens. It was just barely enough to see a few feet ahead.

The two teenagers were still sitting on the rain-soaked sand, gazing silently at the ocean; listening more than seeing the waves.

"How did I get back the Sanc Kingdom?" Relena asked quietly after some time, staring musingly at the water.

"Zechs," Heero replied briskly, his eyes on the water.

"The OZ colonel?" She frowned, turning to look at him curiously. Heero nodded to confirm.

"He freed it from the Alliance, and left it to you."

"But..." she let out thoughtfully, trying to make sense of these strange actions; "but why would he do that? He fights for OZ."

"He doesn't fight for OZ," Heero said blandly; "just with it. Zechs fights for his own reasons."

"Which are?"

The boy raised his left hand up to his face slowly, clenching and unclenching his fist, tensing his biceps and staring at his hand mutely. This arm was supposed to hurt, as it was still recovering from serious injuries he had sustained while dueling against Zechs in Siberia, and then in the artic. But here, there was no pain; no trace of injuries he remembered so vividly, feeling their dull ache in his flesh for months now. This arm was never badly damaged; this body never hung between life and death for a month while recovering from a reckless act of self-detonation. No trace of ever battling Zechs Merquise.

"Same as yours," Heero finally answered Relena's question, lowering his arm down to the sand. "Only he takes a different approach."

"I don't understand," Relena let out slowly, confused. "Approach to what?"

Heero turned to her, frowning thoughtfully. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"He's your brother."

"What?!"

"Zechs Merquise is Millardo Peacecraft," Heero stated listlessly, as though stating the obvious.

Relena seemed flabbergasted. "He _is_?" She mumbled, bowing her head down to frown at the sand. She recalled how Heero, her Heero, had confronted Zechs on the ship. He claimed that the Colonel wouldn't dare let any harm come to her, and now she understood why. Heero knew this, because he had read it in his father's notes. Why didn't he say anything when he told Junior and her about Duo's _"history notes"_?!

"How do you know this?" She asked Heero in a pained, moaning voice. The boy turned to gaze at his left hand again, his expression far away.

"We have a certain... history," he mumbled, clenching and unclenching his fist slowly, as though expecting it to hurt. "He's been pursuing me since the day I came to Earth. Ego, probably," he muttered dourly, shrugging. "The last I've seen him he had already defected from OZ. He came to space as an ambassador of Sanc... calling himself Millardo Peacecraft." [[3]]

"And does he know who I am?" Relena asked, fascinated.

Heero nodded. "I think so, yes," he said slowly, lowering his hand down against the sand. "At least where I come from, he does," he added, turning to Relena. "And in his own twisted way, he is also trying to realize your father's dream of Absolute Pacifism."

"So he won our father's kingdom back with force, ensuring that I could rule without it?"

"Yes."

Relena shot up to her feet. "In that case I have to get him to do it here too!"

Still sitting on the sand, Heero scowled at her sullenly. "If he hasn't done so already, then there must be a reason. You said he's still with OZ... Something is different here."

"Yes, _of course_ it is!" She exclaimed heatedly; "_You're_ what's different, Heero! You don't have the same role as you do there... Zechs never met you on the battlefield! You never bruised his _ego_ like you did there! We can fix that!"

Heero shook his head in refusal. He stood up, dusting sand off his wet sweatpants. "Forget it," he told her firmly. "I can't do anything to risk this... other... me." He gestured down at himself as if pointing at a stranger's body. "It won't be right."

"The Heero I know, the one you're allegedly _protecting_, would have agreed in a heartbeat, regardless of what his father told him he should or should not do!"

Heero seemed dazzled. "He would have?"

Relena smiled cleverly. "Perhaps you two are more alike than you'd care to think."

"Regardless," he asserted, "It would be foolish to attempt a meeting without knowing his true motives in this timeline. I could be wrong."

"We have no reason to believe they're any different!" Relena insisted. "Duo said so himself: this timeline is very similar to where you came from. Maybe the only difference is that in this reality, Zechs didn't get... a push in the right direction."

Heero was looking at her skeptically, but that didn't seem to derail Relena from this conviction:

"Look," she said firmly; "I'm not asking you to spill any blood. I just need a chance to talk to him again, that's all. This time, I'll come prepared. All I ask of you is that you help me do that. I _know_ I can make a difference!"

"I know that too, but..." Heero allowed his voice to trail off, for he had noticed that they were no longer alone. He could hear someone approaching, making his way clumsily through the darkness. Tensing readily, Heero hurried to step protectively in front of Relena, glowering ahead at the pitch black beach, his eyes seeking the shadowy figure heading towards them, shuffling nosily against the sand.

As the intruder neared, the two teenagers relaxed. It was only Duo. Annoyed to see him, Heero glowered at the man, and then turned away offensively.

"What are you doing here?" He grunted irately. The burn in his chest was reigniting, much to his annoyance. It wasn't easy to suppress it, and now it was back, flame-like surges sizzling and crackling inside of him.

"I wanna talk," Duo said, his voice slightly slurring.

"Have you been _drinking_?" Heero whirled around and scowl at the man accusingly.

"I, uh..." Relena mumbled uneasily. "I'll give you two some space..." she said, preparing to leave. She turned to Heero. "We'll continue this later," she told him. He nodded to confirm. She smiled thankfully, and left, making her way back to dark grassy hills where the incline allowed her to climb back up to the road above.

Heero and Duo remained alone on the beach.

Despite the darkness, Duo's well-trained eyes immediately noted Heero's soaked clothes; the boy must be freezing. Acting out of pure fatherly instinct, he took off his leather jacket and handed it to the boy. Heero accepted it reluctantly and slipped into the jacket without a word. The soft lining was warm with Duo's body heat, and it smelled like him too. Heero winced, feeling awkward.

"I have nothing to say to you, Maxwell," he told the man callously and turned to glare resentfully at the black ocean.

"Then just hear me out," Duo implored him; "because I got plenty to say."

"Say it when you're sober," Heero grunted and sat down on the sand, clutching the large leather jacket closed over his chest. "I don't think I want to hear what you have to say when you're intoxicated," he said quietly, his voice taking a softer, less accusing tone. This was making him uncomfortable, Duo realized. He smiled sadly, and settled down on the sand next to the boy, but not too close.

"I'll try not to make this awkward," he promised and Heero snorted skeptically, finding that hard to believe.

"But there are some things I have to say," Duo explained in a pained voice. Heero wasn't the least bit appeased by his plea.

"Come on Heero, what harm can it possibly do if J says you won't remember any of this?" Duo tried to reason with the boy. "Please," he added feebly, his eyes begging Heero to let him speak.

"Just say it already," Heero muttered reluctantly, never averting his eyes from the water. "I'll listen."

Duo nodded thankfully, even though he knew that Heero was obliging him only because he knew that in the grand scheme of things, it won't make any difference; he will not remember any of it once he returns to the original timeline. Still, Duo couldn't miss out on this precious chance for closure. He turned to look at the ocean, searching for the right words.

For a while, he said nothing. They sat, staring at the waves in tense silence. Duo struggled to come up with something to say, knowing that there was so much inside of him he wanted to share with Heero, but he couldn't single out anything solid. All this _mess_ was raging inside of him, but he couldn't pick anything out from the clutter; he was feeling empty and overflowing at the same time. And sad, terribly sad.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the ocean air into his lungs and releasing it with a long sigh. He opened his eyes again, gazing numbly at the sea.

"I buried you on this beach," he finally whispered sadly; "Well, spread your ashes, anyway." He murmured, turning to Heero with anguished eyes. The boy was still gazing ahead at the waves, his eyes hard, guarded; it was a shield Duo knew well.

"That explains it then," Heero said quietly, gazing at the sea thoughtfully.

"Explains what?" Duo asked carefully.

"ZERO showed us this place."

"Us?" Duo asked dumbly, and then realized that the boy was referring to his son. "Oh," he let out, turning back towards the ocean, grimacing in anguish.

"So you've met," he stated starkly.

"In a way," Heero confirmed.

Duo hesitated to ask his next question, unsure of what he'll do if the answer was anything but good news.

"Is he... I mean... is he okay?"

"He's still here, if that's what you mean," Heero said quietly. "I don't think I can decide which one of us is in control, but I can feel him in there."

Duo nodded thankfully. He was relieved to hear that his son was still in there, somewhere. He turned to watch the ocean, trying to find the right words to speak to Heero... his Heero. He never thought he'd be at a loss for words if given the chance to speak with Heero again. How annoyingly ironic, having so much to say, but having no words to describe it.

"God..." he moaned despairingly, running his hand through his bangs with a heavy sigh.

"Ever since you died, I wished for nothing more than a second chance... even just to say goodbye..." he mumbled, turning to Heero with a helpless smile; "Closure, yanno?"

Heero seemed to be listening intently, looking intensely at the man.

"The funny thing is," Duo continued, "now that I _do_ have you back, I don't have anything to say. These past eight years... raising you... it changed things. I... I don't think I need that closure anymore. I never stopped loving you, never stopped being with you... it was just in a different way. And now..." he shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture and turned to look at the water again; "there's no going back, I guess."

He was stunned to hear Heero cackle at his remark; stifling a snorting little chuckle and clamping his own mouth shut with his fist as the short cackle burst out of his throat, surprising him. Seeing this, Duo realized what he had said, and burst into laughter.

"No pun intended, I swear!" He called out, laughing, and much to his surprise, Heero soon joined him. They laughed for a few good minutes, tension dissipating, until the teenage boy forced himself to calm down, bowing his head sheepishly to hide his undeniable mirth.

Duo was ecstatic, smiling warmly at the boy. He had deeply missed the sound of his laughter; it's been so long since he had heard his son laugh so freely, but even stranger was knowing that this was not his son laughing, but Heero. And he could not recall ever hearing _his_ Heero laugh like that. He had forgotten how beautiful Heero's smile was; how rare and precious. It was a different smile than that of his boy. His son's smile was free of guilt and without restraint, but _his _Heero had a very timid and subtle smile, always feeling awkward when he smiled (however rarely), believing that he was not allowed to rejoice. Smiling embarrassed him, which was why he was doing his best wipe the smile off his face. He turned to the ocean, fighting to keep a straight face until he calmed.

"I can't remember the last time I laughed..." Heero mumbled dazedly, staring down at the sand, ashamed of his open display of emotion. "I forgot what it's like... feeling this freely."

Duo nodded in understanding. "I think you died because you wanted to feel this way again," he said sadly, observing the waves with a tortured expression. "You never said anything, but in hindsight... I know it bothered you. You thought you could reverse what J did to you... you died for it, will die for it... whatever." He heaved a miserable sigh and turned to Heero, unshed tears welling in his cobalt blue eyes.

"The thing is, you didn't have to... you didn't need some _brain altering device_ to make you feel again. You felt just like anyone... you just didn't know it, didn't believe it, but you did."

The boy regarded him quietly, allowing the man to speak his mind.

"You wanted to be able to love more, but I don't think anyone has ever loved as passionately and deeply as you did. It was my fault," Duo admitted sorrowfully, "I kept expecting things that didn't really mean anything... all that stupid shit they show people on TV and crap. But that wouldn't have proven anything. That wasn't love, just gestures... pretend. You didn't need to pretend. I knew how much you loved me, because I loved you just the same."

He laughed awkwardly when he saw the scowl on Heero's face.

"Well, you probably don't believe me... The '_we'_ I'm talking about doesn't happen until like... seven years from now."

"Hn," Heero let out thoughtfully and turned to look at the water. "I really can't imagine a future where I feel as much as you say I will." He reached his hands down to toy with the wet sand between his fingers. "I'm not even sure I can."

"You can't tell me that you don't feel. I know you do."

"Do you really?" He turned to Duo, his eyes upset; "We barely spent two months together. You don't know the first thing about me."

"You forget that from where I'm standing, it's been over nineteen years," Duo pointed out. He was shocked to see Heero smile again, apparently amused by this remark.

"I'm barely sixteen and you've known me for over nineteen years..." He smirked, shaking his head in amusement; "This is fucked up on so many levels."

"I agree," Duo said, smiling softly, "But I've known you as a comrade, a friend, partner, lover... and even a son. I loved you in just about every way possible, Heero. I know every single side there is to you, so believe me when I say that you feel just like anyone else. You hurt just like others do, sometimes even more. Maybe you don't feel that way now, because it's easier to detach yourself when you're fighting, but when the battle is over, you suffer just like the rest of us. You will feel again. I know you're still capable of it, because I saw it happen."

"Now this is getting awkward..." Heero muttered uncomfortably, turning to face away from the man.

Duo chuckled nervously. "Yeah, I know," he agreed, "But maybe this is something you gotta hear."

"How can you be certain that I wasn't acting the way one is _expected_ to act when feeling a certain way?" Heero turned to him in question. "I know _how_ I should feel, I can even remember what certain emotions feel like, but... it's... It never goes beyond knowing. Sometimes I know that I should be feeling happy or sad, but... that's it. I can't act on it, just pretend that I am. I can shout if I'm angry, but that's about it. Nothing is ever genuine." He finished miserably, lowering his eyes down to stare at the sand.

"It wasn't always like that," he mumbled sadly; "I made a mistake... a terrible mistake that cost many lives and I... I couldn't handle it, so they made me. I welcomed the indifference. It was... a relief. It still is, sometimes, but..." He paused, shaking his head. He raised his head to look at Duo again, his expression wretched. "If I'm to survive this war then... Maybe it won't be such a relief anymore."

Duo smiled sadly at Heero, touched by his honesty.

"The fact that you think this way already goes to show you that you _do_ feel. You feel _the longing_ to feel, and that means you're already on the right track to recovery. You _will _get over this, Heero. Maybe not completely, but it will get better."

"Because of you?" Heero asked doubtfully.

"I'd like to think I was a big part of that, yeah," Duo admitted, "But it was all you, Heero. You're much stronger than you think."

The boy looked like he was about to object, but Duo interjected before he could speak: "Forget what other people think about you," he said; "It doesn't matter that they believe you're some kind of _god_, because you're not. You know it, and I know it, so it's okay to be weak. It's just that... you're not as weak as you think you are, you're stronger than that. That's what I'm trying to say."

"Spoken like a true idiot," Heero teased with half a smile and Duo laughed.

"Boy, don't I know it!" He said, his laughter dying; "So take it from the idiot who changed history for you: You're worth it. All of it. All the love in world. And I know I'm embarrassing you," he added when he felt Heero was about to pull away, "but it's something you gotta hear, something I wish I had said to you a million times over while I still had the chance."

"You love me," Heero repeated slowly, as if to assert the uncanny proclamation.

"Yes," Duo affirmed, looking into Heero's eyes. "It will take me too long to realize it, but I do. I love you, Heero. Now, and then... and always. That's all I wanted to tell you, really, because I never said it enough. Love between us... it went without saying. We knew it, but we never really admitted it... not verbally at least." He smiled wistfully at the boy, looking into his eyes. He didn't have that problem now:

"I love you," he repeated firmly and felt tears well in his eyes. "And I'm sorry if I ever made you doubt that or feel like you're not good enough."

"Poor choice of words, Maxwell," Heero grunted, snorting dismissively. "You never made me _feel _anything. You're talking about a future that hasn't happened yet."

"But it will."

"It _might_," Heero corrected callously, looking at the man with glaring blue eyes. "Which makes your apology redundant." He turned to look at the ocean again, contemplating something quietly for a moment. "At any rate," he suddenly added, his voice a mere whisper; he was still facing forward, watching the water, when he uttered a quiet: "Thank you."

Duo smiled miserably, more tears stinging his eyes. He nodded in acknowledgement, sniffling quietly as he turned away to hide his miserable face.

They listened to the rustling of the waves for a while, gazing blankly at the horizon.

"I'm taking Relena to see Zechs," Heero then stated, back to business. He turned to Duo, his expression resolute.

"Da Hell you are!" Duo called out angrily.

"I'm not asking for your permission."

"You never do..." Duo grumbled, "Which is why you got yourself into this mess in the first place!"

"You're thinking of someone else."

"Trust me, I'm not," the man muttered sullenly.

"Look, I don't know what kind of person your... son... is, but we're not—"

"Apples and oranges, Heero," Duo cut-in, shaking his head. "Don't even go there." He exhaled deeply, turning to face the boy. "I'm telling you, taking her to him is a waste of time. You already tried it once... will try it once... and it'll get you _nowhere_. There's no talking to that guy. You'll see. He has his mind set on this _awful _path and there's nothing Relena can say to talk him out of it. You dropped everything in the middle of the biggest battle _ever_ to take her to Zechs so she could reason with him, but in the end everything was decided on the battlefield. You can't talk to him, Heero, just fight him, and I can't let you do that here. It's not the same. Not when there's so much to lose."

"Then what will you have me do?!" Heero enquired bitterly.

"Nothing, Heero. This is not your war. I made this mess, and I'm gonna fix it. I have a plan."

"You're wrong," Heero countered; "This is my fight just as it is yours. Things are happening differently here because of _us_. Because you did something for _me_. It's my responsibility too. I can help. Let me take Relena to see Zechs."

"Do you really think if you'll go with her, that the war will to come to an end?" Duo asked miserably.

"If you say he won't talk, then I'll just have to defeat Zechs," Heero declared determinedly; "and then you can go after Treize. We can have a crucial advantage, knowing what you know. I can help end this war, both here and in our own timeline. I have no choice _but_ to fight. I can't let this knowledge go to waste, Duo." He looked intensely at the man sitting next to him. "Please let me fight." [[4]]

"I won't! No way!" Duo vowed, shaking his head roughly in denial. "You're planning to die, aren't you? You're so fucking dense! All of this madness is happening because I wanted you to _live!_"

Heero reached for Duo's hand, and the man gasped, shocked by this intimate gesture. He looked into the boy's blue eyes, seeing no trace of his son, but only the person with whom he had once fallen in love. Heero's eyes shone like stars; ancient and bright. He almost forgot how beautiful Heero was... how utterly precious... _No!_ He shouldn't think of Heero that way! He mustn't!

"No, Heero," Duo moaned, shaking his head miserably. His hand trembled in Heero's hold. He looked down at where Heero's palm covered his hand gently. The boy's hand was slightly smaller than his; so much younger. They were decades apart – and they should be _worlds_ apart, otherwise, feelings got muddled. He shouldn't be looking at Heero this way! He began to pull his hand away from Heero's grasp, shaking. But Heero stopped him, holding his hand in place.

"Believe in me." He heard the boy whisper softly, and looked up, gazing wretchedly at the boy through a blur of tears. His entire world narrowed down to those bright blue eyes and Duo felt himself suffocating.

"Let me go," Heero asked of him, looking keenly into Duo's eyes.

"I can't!" Duo cried out, tears spilling down his unshaven cheeks; a grown man crying in front of a boy. No boy should ever have to see his father cry, but this was not his son, and _his_ Heero was never a boy; no one has ever given him the chance to be one. So Duo cried brokenly; a man weeping like a heartbroken boy. And Heero watched blankly; a boy who was forced to become a hardhearted man.

The universe was too cruel, Duo mused gloomily; it was punishing him for messing with its most elementary rules. He was being asked to let go of Heero again, and his heart couldn't take any more of this brutal punishment. He was breaking apart, crumbling piece by piece in front of Heero:

"Don't you think I would have if I could?!" He cried wretchedly; "Look what I've done for you!" He gestured desperately at the world around them; "Do you have any idea how hard it's been – being with you, but _not_ being with you? No one in their _right mind_ would ever ask for this kind of torment, but I did for you! I won't accept a world without you, Heero! I can't live without you, I just _can't!_ You have no right to take my son away from me!" He wept, shaking. "You have no right to _leave_ me again!"

"I will be gone in three days," Heero reminded him calmly. "It has already happened."

"I refuse to believe that!" Duo cried. "Not everything is predetermined, Heero! If anyone can change the world... the future... it's you! Do it for me, Heero... please! I know you don't believe me right now, but it's gonna be worth it! I promise! I... I can find a way to make things happen differently! Please!"

"Duo," Heero said the man's name firmly, holding his hand tightly with both his hands. He looked deeply into the man's tearful blue eyes: "We only have three days," he reminded Duo sternly, "Please let my time here mean something. I promise I won't let anything happen to your son. I will protect him... I'll be careful," he pledged, holding Duo's hands tightly. "Let me take Relena to see Zechs. I'll be back in three days."

"And then you'll leave me," Duo murmured forlornly, sniffling.

"I will bring back your son."

"And _leave_."

"Please let me go," Heero repeated the simple request, speaking softly as if to soothe the pain they delivered; sharing sympathies he was unable to offer in the other timeline. "Trust me."

Duo stared at their joined hands with tear-bleary eyes.

It was hard not to believe in Heero; that was just the kind of person he was. His words _meant _something, his promises always reliable. Duo trusted him blindly. He knew with visceral certainty that Heero would not fail him, which was why, with a heavy heart, he finally agreed. His tears shining in his eyes, Duo let go of Heero's hand.

"Alright," he said steadily, ignoring the tears still sliding down his stubbly face; "You can take her. I'm gonna let you go, Heero, but we're gonna come up with the plan _together_."

"Fair enough," Heero agreed, nodding briskly. He stood up. "This is your messed-up timeline, Maxwell," he said, wiping the sand that clung to his drenched sweatpants. "You know the lay of the land, you lay the groundworks."

"Never thought I'd live to see the day..." Duo muttered with half a smile as he stood up as well, groaning quietly as he pushed off the soft wet sand. God, he wished he was twenty years younger. After sitting on the cold hard sand in the freezing wind without a jacket for so long, his back now ached, his muscles had cramped, an old knee injury creaked when he stood up, and that was just to name a few. Who would have thought that the body one had at mere _thirty-five _could already be considered obsolete? God damn it, he was getting too old for this.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you for reading so far. I'm still working on the rest of Act Three. I hope to post Part 5 within two to three weeks. There's a total of 8 parts planned for this act, leading to the end of the story. Give me some time, I'll get you there. *smiles*

**Your feedback is always greatly appreciated!**

Happy Holidays!

Elle

* * *

[1] Hey, if "X-Men: Days of Future Past" got away with this kind of BS, then why can't I?

[2] This paragraph is a paraphrase of a brilliant piece of monologue from Doctor Who Season 9, episode 4: "Before the Flood".

[3] Episode 21 "Grief Stricken Quatre".

[4] Parts of this dialogue are based Heero's conversation with Relena in episode 48, "Takeoff into Confusion".


	24. Act Three - Part 5

**Author's Note:** OK. So it's been like 9 months since I last updated, I know. And I know that I've been going around saying that I won't post anymore until the story is complete, but you know what? I can't wait anymore. So I'm posting what I have so far, hoping your kind encouragements would help motivate me to finish this thing already. I know what I want to write, I just can't do it for some reason.

So. If you're still reading this, or if you have just stumbled upon this story for the first time - please review. Please. I can't tell you how much I need it right now. My life is in shambles, really, so any kindness you can throw my way will be greatly appreciated. You're not just commenting on some fan fiction. You're making a difference in someone's life. Really.

Well, enough begging and on with the show...

* * *

**Paradox**

**Act Three**

**Part 5**

Coughing, Heero stepped out of a warm shower inside a steamy bathroom and reached for a white towel. He wiped himself dry hastily, walking naked towards the vanity. Outside the small bathroom window, only the darkness of night could be seen.

The boy stepped in front of the foggy mirror, dropping the wet towel to the floor. He stood still, watching the steam in the small bathroom dissipate slowly, until the mirror cleared enough to reveal his reflection. It was the same image he had encountered in the mirror many times before. It didn't look much different, albeit this body wasn't marred by battle scars, except for the nasty bruising on his left temple. He had gotten this bruise when confronting an OZ officer two days ago. He had no idea how this _other him_ had procured a similar injury, but the fact that the same dark bruising was in the exact same place was a little unsettling, if not downright _creepy_. Could this mean that their destiny was somehow entwined? How could it be, when they lead such different lives?

Heero studied his face carefully in the mirror, his expression troubled. He recognized his reflection, but it still felt so alien to him. This body was different. This body hadn't been starved spending weeks in enemy capture; this body didn't suffer from terrible fatigue after months of endless battles; this body didn't ache after suffering grave injuries over a short period of time. No; this body was well-fed and well-rested, pampered in ways of which he could only dream. No matter what he saw in the mirror, this body wasn't him. It couldn't be him, and yet... He raised his arm up slowly over his shoulder, touching his upper backside, and reached his other arm around his waist, also behind his back. He felt around the callous skin on his back, closing his eyes as he ran the tips of his fingers over old scar-tissue he hadn't felt marring his backside in years. These scars used to be a part of him, once, but no more. Here, however, they still branded him, etching his past and his weakness into his skin.

The process of losing these scars had been painful, but it had been a welcomed pain. Dr. J had made certain that he wouldn't have to carry this badge of shame on his back for the rest of his life, however long that may be considering the role the old man had in store for him. How could he ever carry himself virtuously, standing tall and proud as a soldier, if he felt these scars stretching across his back whenever he tried to stand up straight? These scars didn't belong to a soldier; he never got them in battle. They belonged to a victim, not a fighter. He hated these scars; hated the little boy who couldn't prevent this brutal mutilation of his body.

Warm tears gathered behind his closed eyelids. He blinked them away, opening his eyes as he turned to look at himself in the mirror, his expression blank despite the tears. He lowered his hands and simply stood there with his arms dangling lifelessly at his sides, staring numbly at his reflection. He could see the trails of tears across his cheeks, but he couldn't feel them; they didn't feel like they belonged to him.

He had been beaten, whipped, burned and worse when he had procured these scars, but he had never cried, not once. He refused to give Odin the satisfaction, in spite of the bastard's best efforts to break him. So why was he crying now? Why did these old scars hurt so much? How could they possibly hurt as much as they did before?

_Before_. The mere word made his knees weak.

_Before_. That was the term he used to compartmentalize these horrors. He had shoved them somewhere deep where they could do no harm, refusing to think back on the pain and humiliation, the utter helplessness of a frightened child. He wasn't a child anymore; he never was, regardless of his age. He might have been weak once, but that was _Before_; before he had learned to be strong. Now these scars couldn't hurt him, they'd been deleted from his body and his mind, classified as something from _Before _and thus no longer a part of who he was today.

This compartmentalization allowed such conflicting cognitions to co-exist. It hindered the impossible interaction between two separate states of his being. There was _Before_, and there was _Now_. That helpless child without a name grew up to be a capable soldier. Now, men like Odin could never hurt him; no one could ever hurt him, because he couldn't feel hurt. Hurt was something from _Before_, thrust deep into that locked compartment in his psyche.

But then why, when he looked in the mirror, did he suddenly see that hurting weeping child from _Before_?

The barrier between compartments had been removed; his meticulous compartmentalization compromised. Denial and indifference now failed to protect him against this forgotten part of his life, of his being. Two contradicting states of mind were battling inside of him, one screaming defiantly and the other weeping brokenly. _Now_ and _Before_ blended together, so Heero cried, shedding silent tears as he finally confronted himself as a whole.

* * *

His throat hurt. He couldn't recall ever weeping so sorrowfully before, sniveling pathetically and unable to stop, but the painfully constricted sensation in his throat was strangely familiar; he might have forgotten all about crying, but his body – this body, at least – hadn't.

Feeling drained but elevated after his small breakdown in the bathroom, Heero stood in front of the closet inside his (alter-self's) bedroom, the white towel wrapped around his well-toned waist. He opened the wardrobe and scowled at its messy content in disdain. The shelves were packed with jumbled clothes all shoved together carelessly and crammed between the shelves. This couldn't possibly be his closet, he mused dismally as he reached for what looked like a hint of blue denim peeking from within a colorful ball of mixed fabrics. He yanked the jeans out forcefully, dropping a whole pile of crumpled clothes to the floor along with it.

He rummaged through the fallen pile until he found a suitably warm long sleeved shirt – a gray hooded pullover with the initials NYC printed on it in bulk white letters – and then turned to the underwear drawers in search of proper undergarments. The drawers were no less messy. He found a pair of boxers and a wrinkly white tank-top to wear under the hoodie, but it took him a while to find two matching socks, for no one had bothered to fold the pairs together. Apparently, the _other him_ was a real slacker, which Heero found inexcusable. The boy might have gotten the better end of the bargain, but that was no excuse to become such a _slob_. Surely this was a direct result of living with Duo for nearly a decade. The braided idiot always left his belongings lying around their dorm back when they had traveled across Europe together, moving from one boarding school to another. Their opposite sides of the room used to look like two different planets.

So, after Heero finished dressing, he rearranged the closet quickly, folding everything neatly and grouping similar items together. He laid everything back in neat piles organized by color, style, usage, and such. Once done, he took a step back to examine his handiwork, pleased with the result.

He thought it safe to say that a messy closet could be regarded as the bane of one's existence. Conversely, an organized closet could bring forth euphoric joy— or, at the very least, a sense of relief at being able to find what you need and get ready quickly and efficiently. Efficiency was the name of the game, and it all began with a well-organized closet. Organizing was a guilty pleasure of his, one he rarely had time to practice, but if he could benefit this alternate universe even in this small way, then why not?

Fighting off a pleased smile (which would have been completely uncalled for!), Heero nodded in approval of his work. He turned to the bed – his small base of operation, where he had folded and arranged the clothes before putting them back inside the closet neatly. A single pile was left on the bed, one he had folded, but didn't return to the closet. He didn't see the need, because all of these clothes were too small for a boy his age. They were leftovers from years past, some small enough to date back to childhood, left behind unnoticed whenever the wardrobe's content was updated over the years. Returning them would be a waste of space, but then what should he do with them? Throw them away? Donate them to charity perhaps?

He picked up the first folded item in the pile: a plain blue jumper with a dark blue zipper and a small picture of a penguin on the upper left, size 10. He held it in front of him, spread between his two hands, and gazed at it with desolate blue eyes. It was hard to imagine that such a small piece of clothing had once fit him. He didn't remember being a child, not in the psychological sense of the word, but this blue jumper with a silly picture of a penguin on it, clearly belonged to a child; one who was allowed to _be_ a child and not just fall into the physical definition of one.

Turning around while holding the jumper to his chest, his eyes sought the little penguin doll lying by the computer monitor opposite to the bed. Watching its little black-button eyes, Heero felt a small pang of envy.

Penguins. He didn't even know what they were up until a few months ago, when he came to Earth. Such knowledge simply wasn't relevant to what he was trained to do. Still, exposed to Earth culture and media, he had soon learned that penguins were one of the most beloved animals on Earth, and he could somehow understand why his "child-self" liked them so much. They were birds that couldn't fly, but they were excellent swimmers. They had very efficient flippers that most people mistook for vestigial wings. Their adaptability entailed respect, kind of like the outdated Leo model he had admired as a child. To this day Heero was still very fond of it, even though he was capable of piloting far more advanced machinery. The Leos might be outdated, but their simple and adaptable design made them indispensable on the battlefield. The only reason they've stayed in service for so long was because of their versatile nature and ability to adapt to any environment, kind of like penguins. Heh. Maybe he wasn't so different from that "child-self" after all.

Taking a small comfort in that, he folded the childish blue jumper and placed it back at the top of the pile. He will leave it to Duo to decide what to do with these old clothes. He had no right to throw away something from a past that wasn't his.

Heero finally stepped out of the blue room. It was nighttime, and most of the old farmhouse was dark, except for a dim light in the hallway and another faint light coming from the kitchen downstairs. He headed there, ruffling his matted wet hair to give it some messy volume as he skipped hurriedly down the steps in his socks. He felt strangely lightheaded, his mood elated by the simple opportunity to drop everything and do something he enjoyed. He couldn't remember ever feeling so carefree, springing down the stairs like a child. He had to take a minute once he reached the bottom, stopping to compose himself. He still had a mission to plan and execute. He should really get a hold of himself, but it seemed as though his own brain was working against him – or was such a claim inaccurate, considering this wasn't really _his_ brain?

Just thinking about it made his head hurt (he refused to attribute the headache to anything else), so choosing not to dwell on it, Heero walked to the kitchen. A fluorescent ceiling fixture washed everything with harsh white light, and outside the kitchen window there was only black. Raindrops were sprinkled on the glass; it was raining again. Duo was standing by the stove, stirring a pot of what reeked distinctly like instant-mixed soup, smelling more like plastic than food. The man's back was facing the kitchen entrance, where Heero stood. He studied the man's backside for a moment, noting his slouching and weary posture. If not for the long braid dangling down the man's hunched back, he never would have believed that he was looking at Duo Maxwell. There was no trace of the sprightly and annoying attitude he had always associated with Duo. He would have liked to blame it on the years that have gone by, but he had this sinking feeling that he should blame it on himself.

Looking at the small kitchen table at the center of the room, Heero noted that the table was set for two, and frowned thoughtfully. Relena came home with them from the beach; she was waiting for them by Duo's red pickup truck when they came back up. She was still here when he went upstairs to take a shower and get out of his drenched clothes, but now he couldn't see a trace of neither Relena nor Dr. J anywhere in the house. He was about to ask Duo where they were, finally giving away his presence, but a cough bursting out of his throat beat him to it. Coughing, he hurried to cover his mouth with his fist, while Duo turned away from the stove to face him, realizing he was there. The two looked at each other awkwardly for a tense moment, until Heero coughed again and Duo's oddly matured features creased with a frown.

"Feeling okay?" He asked in concern.

"Yeah, fine," Heero muttered with a strained voice, holding back another stubborn cough tickling the back of his aching throat.

Duo's frown only deepened. "You sure?"

"Positive," Heero grunted and then sniffled loudly, rubbing his runny nose.

"You don't look too good," Duo fretted nonetheless; "Let me check your temperature."

"I said I'm _fine_," the teenage boy grumbled petulantly, looking peeved; "Just drop it already," he added with an annoyed sigh and stepped towards the table to take a seat. "Where is everyone?" He asked, changing the subject.

The man regarded him quietly for another moment, before releasing a frustrated sigh and turning back to the stove. "I took Relena home," he told Heero without turning away from the stove. "And since you seem to be stable, J went back to the rig to work on ZERO," he added tiredly. "The damn thing stopped working, but he doesn't know why yet."

The boy frowned at him crossly. "But we're supposed to—"

"We'll leave in the morning," Duo cut in on him, sighing wearily. He switched off the stove, extinguishing the flame.

Heero glowered at the man irately, furious at being interrupted in the middle of a sentence. It was completely unheard of for Duo to treat him this way!

"We never said anything about waiting until morning," he spoke harshly, glaring at Duo as the man grabbed a ladle and brought the steaming pot to the table.

"Yeah well, I say we leave after you have your dinner and get a good night's rest, so that's that," Duo answered nonchalantly as he served Heero some soup, ignoring the boy's irate glare.

"Don't speak to me like I'm your _child_," Heero growled furiously, but Duo continued to ignore him and settled on the opposite chair to have his supper, serving himself some soup as well.

"This is a waste of time," Heero grunted, watching Duo eat, annoyed by his unhurried manner. "We should be discussing mission parameters instead of this useless _dinner for two, _or did you forget that I only have two more days left?"

"Plenty of time to take the _princess _to her _prince_," Duo muttered uncaringly and sipped some soup from his tablespoon. "No use rushing into a futile endeavor," he added, shrugging carelessly. "Eat your dinner," he then instructed casually, gesturing with his head at Heero's untouched bowl of soup.

"Stop it!" The boy snapped, pushing his chair back forcefully as he stood up and punched the table. The dishes rattled loudly before they settled.

Duo turned to look up at the boy calmly. "What's the matter, Heero?" He asked evenly; "I've never seen you quite so..." – he glimpsed at the dishes – "..._rattled_ before," Duo sneered.

"You're doing this on _purpose!_" The boy accused heatedly; "Trying to _piss me off_ when you _know_ I can't control this— this— this _STUPID_ teenage-body!" He exploded, stomping his foot forcefully on the floor without ever realizing it.

"Exactly," Duo confirmed calmly, setting his spoon down. He kept his eyes on Heero, holding his gaze with his while he spoke: "You wanna discuss mission parameters, Heero? Fine. Let's talk about how you're compromising this mission before it even starts."

"_Compromising_?" The boy scoffed skeptically. "I am _not_, nor have I_ ever,_ compromised _any_ mission!" He spat, outraged, but his snippy words failed to convince Duo, who was smirking at him slyly.

"You don't even realize it, do you?" The man asked, amused. By the dumbfounded look on the boy's face, Duo easily deduced that the answer was 'no'. He smiled softly at the boy.

"You're sixteen and your brain is going haywire in all the wrong directions," he told him; "Your feelings are out of whack and it shows, which is why I think you're being rash. You haven't thought this through, Heero. You're not yourself, not entirely. Did you take this into account when you went over mission parameters in your head?"

The boy sat back down slowly, looking stumped. Duo took that as another obvious 'no'.

"You said you will protect my son," he continued gently, "that you will take care of yourself and bring him back home safely, but when have you ever taken personal safety into account? I've seen how you work on the field, Heero. And in over twelve years, I've never seen you factor _personal safety_ into your mission objectives. Not once."

The boy bowed his head down, staring numbly at his untouched bowl of soup.

"You asked me to trust you, Heero, and I do," Duo spoke the words out softly; "I always have, but you're not really _you_ right now... are you?"

"No," the boy admitted quietly, keeping his head down. He thought back guiltily at how he'd allowed himself to be distracted and spent over half an hour arranging a closet simply for the sake of arranging it, while he should have been focused on his mission.

"I'm not," he mumbled, ashamed.

Duo nodded, a sad little smile on his lips. "It's okay," he assured Heero; "I bet it must be very confusing for you, and that's why I want to suggest that you take some backup with you."

"Backup?" Heero looked up, frowning.

"Yeah," Duo confirmed. "I should come with you."

"I don't need a _babysitter_," Heero protested hostilely.

"You're doing that bitchy teenage thing again," Duo pointed out, smirking. Heero was fuming, but he kept his mouth shut, nearly biting down on his lower lip.

"Now," Duo continued sternly, "are you ready to plan this mission or do I need to pull the plug on the whole thing because you can't keep it together for five minutes?"

"I _will_ kill you once I get back to my timeline, Maxwell," Heero warned and snatched his spoon, turning to eat.

"Ain't gonna happen," Duo replied smoothly and also picked up his spoon, ready to resume eating. "That would be a paradox, Heero," he reminded the boy, grinning nastily, "so good luck with that."

Furious, Heero sent the man his infamous _Death Glare_, scowling at Duo over a bowl of soup.

* * *

After dinner, they stayed in the kitchen a while longer to discuss their strategy on how to take Relena to see her brother. The plan was to use the intelligence sent to the CLO by Trowa Barton, who had infiltrated the OZ cruiser a few weeks ago, to find the ship's current whereabouts after the Navy had chased it away from Block Island.

An educated guess placed it in international waters somewhere between the US and Bermuda, most likely lurking close the US maritime border. They decided to use the Deathscythe Gundam to lure the Colonel off the ship with his Tallgeese, and confront him with Relena on-land. They chose a small deserted island off the coast of Hatteras Island, North Carolina – the farthest point along the northeastern seaboard and the nearest landmass to the Bermuda Islands. Heero could land Duo's plane in Cape Hatteras and head there by boat along with Relena.

Needless to say, Heero wasn't very pleased with the decision that all he would get to pilot was a lousy _Cessna_, while Duo got to pilot the Gundam. He insisted that he should take Wing ZERO instead, but Duo argued against it, claiming that Heero hasn't mastered it yet, and that Dr. J needed it in order to figure out how to send him back to the original timeline. Duo won that round of arguing, convincing Heero that Deathscythe was their only option at the moment. Plus, he joked, there was no way in Hell he was letting Heero lay a hand on his suit again, considering the only time he had let him anywhere near Deathscythe, Heero had stolen some of its most crucial components and used them to fix his own damn suit!

Heero on his part argued that Duo shouldn't base his decision on something that happened over twenty years ago from his perspective, which Duo easily countered by pointing out that, to Heero, it's only been a few _months_, and therefore he couldn't be trusted not to show the same reckless behavior. Duo won that round too; he was on a roll, so when Heero brought up the issue of their departure again, objecting to the decision to wait until morning, Duo didn't hesitate before sending the boy to bed. He said he wanted him to be well-rested, so that he could be rest assured that he wouldn't make any stupid slip-ups born out of exhaustion and risk his son's life. Plus, Duo claimed, he knew what his son looked like when he was succumbing to a cold, and that miserable look was currently all over Heero's face. He needed rest – no arguments.

Bound by his own promise to keep safe on this mission, Heero let the man's infuriating insolence slide without much protest and retired upstairs to his— his _alter-self's_ – bedroom. Duo stayed behind in the kitchen, still seated by the small table. He stared dully at the maps and reports scattered across the table, before heaving a tired sigh and getting up to clear the two empty bowls of soup to the sink. He stood there stiffly, staring numbly at the two bowls in the sink, feeling hollow.

He had been running on autopilot, existing from one moment to the next so he wouldn't have to dwell on his unbearable predicament. He was just reacting to Heero, never really experiencing the interaction. He couldn't. He had just planned a mission with Heero – _his _Heero! – just like old times. If he would take a moment to stop and think about it too hard, his mind would explode.

How could someone rise from the dead _twice _without dying at all? From where he stood, Heero died eight years ago, but at this point in time he hasn't died yet, and if he'd dare to break the rules and warn Heero about his premature death, he might not die like he had before... and yet, from Duo's perspective, the man has already been resurrected _twice_ – which was one time more than Jesus Christ!

No, that was too crazy to even consider. And it was happening. Right now. For real.

Best not to think about it, then.

Heaving a weary sigh, Duo opened the cupboard under the sink and reached deep inside to rummage between old glass bottles awaiting recycling (oil, vinegar and such), until he found one that wasn't empty, still heavy with fluid. He retrieved it carefully; it was a green bottle of Jameson whiskey: his secret stash.

Removing the cork, he took the bottle and settled back on his chair by the kitchen table. He sat staring blankly at the table until his vision blurred, drinking whisky out the bottle as he wondered how could he possibly agonize so much over the loss of someone who was right there, sleeping upstairs. He got his Heero back, at least for a while, so why did he feel the hurt of losing him all over again?

* * *

Upstairs, inside his (other self's!) blue bedroom, Heero lay in bed under covers, staring numbly at the darkness and listening to the rain tap against the window. He had changed out of his jeans and hoodie, remaining in a pair of boxers and the tank top undershirt. The room was chilly, but the covers were warm; soft and cozy in an extremely unsettling way. The bed he was lying on must be the most comfortable place in which he had ever lain to rest, but instead of enjoying this rare luxury, he found it deeply upsetting.

He never had any trouble falling asleep anywhere. He could sleep in the gutter if he had to (and he had, on occasion), but for some reason, he could not close his eyes in this safe and comfy room that was supposed to be his, but didn't come close to feel as such. He just lay there for hours, staring unblinkingly at all the different personal belongings scattered around the room; things that could have been his, but weren't: comic books and MS scale-models, flamboyant movie posters and school supplies... this was the room of a typical teenage boy, full of things to which he might have been able to relate, but only in another lifetime.

It was like being trapped inside of a nightmare. Everything about the room was disturbing, from the MS models looking down at him from the display case across the room, to the tattered old penguin doll staring at him blankly from the computer station. This room felt like something out of a surrealistic nightmare, the kind of freakish dream where scary clowns in giant shoes chase you around crooked rooms with black and white chess-like floors and endless staircases... He wanted out, but no matter how fast he'd run or where he'd go, he'd still be trapped in this unfeasible world.

Rolling over in bed, Heero turned to face the blue wall and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the nightmare still lurking behind his back. He could actually feel it creeping up on him, tingling in the back of his head. He feared that if he'd fall asleep, he'd be swallowed by this freakish nightmare and sink deeper into a life that wasn't his to begin with; or was such a statement imprecise considering that he and the "other him" were basically one of the same? If he thought about it, they were both born of the same mother and shared the exact same existence up until eight years ago. They were the same person until the point when Duo came and changed it all. So, basically, he was still _him_, wasn't he? The _other him_ that is. Even if he wasn't exactly himself at the moment, he was still himself – still Heero – which meant that the _other him_ – the other Heero – was... him... right? He was _him_ (the other him) and he was also himself? _What?!_ Damn it! The whole thing was just too confusing.

He was losing himself already.

Eventually, he would lose to this nightmare, mainly because some small part of him longed to belong here. He couldn't distinguish if that yearning part was _him_, or the _other him_ – since both were himself – but he could not deny its powerful allure. This world was created solely for him; a whole parallel universe designed to ensure that he'd live a good life away from the battlefield. Such miracles were irresistible, even to him... especially to him. He had been lost for so long, and here waited a place where he belonged, a place created just for him. Isn't that what people called "paradise"? A place where even fallen angels could rest in peace...

Curling into himself by drawing his knees up to his chest, Heero let out an agonized groan and pulled the pillow over his head, hiding. Faint images flickered across his mind's eye, memories that loitered in this brain that wasn't truly his, but was. Recollections that didn't belong to him played in his head like jumpy old film. He saw himself a child, no more than nine or ten, running across a lush green soccer field wet with rain, chasing a ball. He could actually feel the impact of his leg against the ball when his child-self kicked it straight into a soccer goal, as though he'd been there himself to feel the thrill of the game and the euphoria of scoring that winning goal. He _felt_ a pair of strong hands gripping him by his waist and swooping him up in the air, spinning him around wildly before pulling him into a warm hug against a sturdy chest, and he remembered the feeling of the cold wind against his face as Duo spun him around, laughing and beaming with pride. The only reason he came to like sports so much was because it made his dad happy, it made Duo feel proud of him, and he wanted Duo to love him forever...

Heero jerked awake with a startled gasp, opening his eyes widely. His heart thumped strongly in his chest. Those were not his thoughts. Those were not his memories. That wasn't his dream. A wish, maybe, but not a dream. That wasn't his life. It could never be his life, but it felt so _real_, as though he had been there himself to experience everything – the pride, the joy and that simple wish to be loved... He remembered what those felt like; those feelings used to be a part of him once, ages ago. His wish was never granted, but here...

Here Duo had granted every wish he ever had.

_Why?_

He tried to think hard on the little time they had spent together. There was nothing in their short history to indicate any foreseeable chance of such total devotion in the future. Their friendship – if one could even call it that – was strained at best. To be exact, Duo had _shot_ him when they first met – _twice!_ Other than that, they've shared some friendly rivalry on the battlefield on a few occasions, and also traveled together for a bit, but that was it. Okay, so there was that time a few weeks back when he ignored his orders and rescued Duo from OZ, but that was just because... because... because..? Because it was the right thing to do? Maybe? His orders were to eliminate a threat in Duo, and he had – by breaking him out of that prison cell. If he looked at it that way, then he never really disobeyed orders for Duo, so there. Nothing special. That certainly didn't warrant Duo breaking the very laws of physics for him, creating a _parallel universe_ for him, or anything like that. What could he have possibly done down the road to justify such selfless devotion, such infinite love? Why would Duo – or anyone for that matter – ever love _him_? What was there to love anyway? There was nothing left of him after J and his wicked experiments. Nothing. Just that hollowness in his chest, right where he now felt that _unbearable _burn.

Duo must be out of his mind, just as he had always suspected. Would he really love this man back one day? Would he really love a _man_? Was he into guys, not girls? What did it matter, anyway? Either way, he shouldn't be thinking about this. Such thoughts were inconsequential; irrelevant to the mission. It was never important enough to consider, but now, suddenly, he was so confused...

Sexual desire was something he had never explored before, an urge he had always avoided and repressed. It had been like that from the very beginning of puberty, since the day when he had first realized that he was starting to look at people differently.

It happened during his time with Dr. J: He was about twelve, and every afternoon he had trained in hand-to-hand combat with a strapping young man called Davis. He soon realized how much he enjoyed sparring with his Krav Maga instructor. [[1]] The physical nature of sparring while training in martial arts had evoked something... _new_; something he had only read about in his biology books.

His eyes would linger to Davis' sweaty bare chest and fluctuating muscles. His skin would burn under the man's firm touch and hard skin-to-skin contact whenever they grappled. One afternoon, after a most thrilling and rewarding session, he went to the shower rooms just like he did after every match, and found that his body had reacted in a most unusual way to their practiced fight. His underwear was stained; it had been his first ejaculation.

Deeply disturbed by the fact that his body had reached sexual climax during combat practice with a _man_, he became determined to thrust such feelings aside, enforcing an iron control over his traitorous teenage body. It wasn't easy. His eyes would still wander sometimes, towards Davis and others – men and women alike. That sudden fascination with naked flesh was completely out of his control. It dominated his mind, filling his nights with embarrassing wet dreams and his mornings with shameful erections.

Davis wasn't the only one to elicit these carnal reactions. There was this one young woman at med-bay, Nurse Calvin, whose white scrubs were so tight that they accentuated her large bosoms and round behind whenever she bent towards something. He'd sit on the medical bed and _ogle_, his breath shortening with excitement as he'd watch her rise back slowly to her full height, brushing lush brown curls of hair from her face in a flippant gesture, as though deliberately trying to tease him.

As a preteen, he had been enthralled by all things sexual, which was greatly distracting and hindered his concentration on his studies and combat training. Dr. J had seen to that though, when he began tampering with his brain using experimental neuro-therapy and hormone-deprivation techniques. Afterwards, people like Calvin or Davis quickly lost their appeal. She was just a nurse, and Davis was just another instructor. No more confusion. But now...

The bedroom door opened slightly, shedding a thin column of yellow light on the blue wall in front of Heero. The boy tensed, his body rigid under the covers. He could feel Duo's eyes on his back; the man was checking up on him. He turned around slowly, glancing over his shoulder to look at the door. The second his alert blue eyes fell on Duo, the man tensed in surprise, taken aback, for he must have thought that he was asleep.

"Er— sorry..." he mumbled uneasily and stepped back, closing the door.

Darkness fell over the room again.

Heero continued to lie unmoving, his body still twisted backwards to face the room's entrance. He gaped at the closed wooden door with tortured blue eyes, trying his best to understand why he was so upset.

* * *

Come morning, Heero woke up with a splitting headache. Not because he was ill, of course, but only because he didn't get much sleep (although that didn't account for his sore throat and the persistent cough, but he wasn't sick. He didn't _get_ sick!). He had endured a sleepless night spent tossing and turning restlessly, which had taken a toll on him. He was thankful to see the break of dawn outside his bedroom window, and immediately sprung out of bed, got dressed and hurried downstairs. The sooner he could set out on his mission to take Relena to see Zechs, the better. At least when he was on a mission he didn't have to think so much about this bizarre situation!

Duo was already downstairs when Heero stepped into the kitchen. Apparently, the man didn't get much sleep either, if at all. Heero would have thought it very careless of him, but he hadn't fared much better in the "goodnight sleep" department, so he had no right to criticize. He just grunted something unintelligible to pass for a "good morning" and went to fetch himself a cup of black coffee from the stovetop percolator. The hot beverage was a welcomed relief to his sore throat.

There was an air of awkwardness between them as boy and man sat down to have their coffee in silence, avoiding eye contact. Both refused to deal with the implications of Duo's actions last night, when he had tried to check up on Heero, thinking the boy was asleep. Heero didn't miss the empty bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter, and sent Duo a nasty glare after he noticed it. The man just looked away guiltily and sipped his coffee. Heero grunted in disapproval, and resumed drinking as well. He had this undeniable urge to roll his eyes, but he didn't; that wouldn't have been _him_ rolling his eyes, so he didn't. He was becoming very self-conscious about which one of him was controlling his thoughts and feelings at any given moment; most of the time, it was hard to tell.

"I told Relena we'll pick her up at seven," Duo told him, gesturing with his coffee at the clock on the wall. It was 06:35.

Just hearing her name made his heart jolt, but he squashed the feeling with a disdained grimace, shifting uneasily in his chair. That one wasn't his... right? Why was Duo looking at him funny?

He gulped down the rest of his coffee and set the empty glass on the table before standing up swiftly, pushing his chair back. "Let's go then," he said, keeping things professional while inside he wondered how he was ever going to pull off this small and simple mission with all this tension between them. Thankfully, he only had two more days of this to endure, and then it would all be as though it never happened.

* * *

They drove across the island in Duo's red pickup truck: Duo in the driver's seat and Heero sitting in the backseat directly behind him. It was the only way he could think of to avoid being near the man or within his eyesight. This oddly mature and older Duo made him uneasy, and the stolen glances the man kept sending him were making him ill at ease.

They picked Relena up from the gates of a large white estate standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean on the southern part of the island, a short drive away. Unlike the day before when Heero saw her wear clothes that clearly belong to (the other!) him, now she was dressed in a skimpy purple mini-skirt and a white blouse, wearing her hair half-up/half-down and gathered into a fine lace braid crowning her head. She had smeared makeup on for some reason, which emphasized her already fierce bright-blue eyes and pouty pink lips.

He had never taken the time to notice these lovely little details about her, but now the lingering gaze was out of his control. He remembered the strong feelings he had encountered when looking into his alter-self's eyes during the vision they had shared through ZERO. The _other him_ liked this girl – as in a _"boy likes girl" _kind of like – and Heero found it rather distressing that he couldn't tell which one of him was ogling her at the moment. Everything was muddled up inside of him; two egos meshed together into an indistinguishable mess.

Relena sent him a soft smile through the backseat window – obviously noting his not so innocent staring – and then entered the car at the back on the passenger's side. The scent of her sweet perfume assaulted him the moment she sat down and his lips fought against his restraint, wishing to lift up into a smile he would not allow. The girl inched dangerously close to him without venturing too much into the middle seat between them, but enough to make a point, and Heero suddenly regretted choosing to sit at the back behind the driver's seat. Relena kept looking at him funny all through the short ride back to town, sending him these odd glimpses and smiles every now and then. Heero did his best to keep his eyes out the window to his side, trying to ignore her while being painfully aware of her gaze on the back of his head.

Between Duo, Relena and his alter-ego, he really had nowhere to hide.

Duo drove them through town and finally stopped the truck at a small airfield. Heero was out the door before Duo even cut the engine. He spotted a small white Cessna business-jet on the runway and deduced that it was Duo's. Heading towards it, he marched briskly ahead of the other two, anxious to put some distance between them. He couldn't handle the confusion anymore; he was losing himself completely. He had to focus on the mission; just the mission, nothing else. He couldn't afford to focus on anything else. He had to stay focused!

When they finally caught up with him, he noted Duo pulling a set of keys from his black leather jacket. He turned to the man and snatched said keys quickly.

"I pilot," he declared, his stern tone and burning blue eyes leaving no room for arguments; "You two stay at the back," he ordered, his reproachful eyes darting briefly towards Relena before turning back to glower at tall man before him. He then spun around curtly to face the aircraft, reaching to unlock the door.

Duo just chuckled, amused. Relena, however, seemed confused.

"Are you seriously letting him _fly a plane_?" She turned to Duo with a frown.

"Why not?" Duo shrugged his shoulders casually and the engines started up with a loud hum. "What's a little Cessna compared to a Gundam?" He muttered and climbed into the plane. He stopped at the doorway, turning to Relena.

"Don't forget, this isn't the Heero you know," he sighed and then walked inside. Relena remained on the runway a moment longer, staring wretchedly at the cockpit window where she could see Heero prepping for flight, his manner cold and professional.

"No..." she mumbled, her eyes suddenly sad; "he's not."

* * *

As per Heero's blunt request, the two took a seat in the passenger's cabin while Heero closed himself up in the cockpit, flying the plane. Duo gave the boy the information he needed to get them safely to their destination. They had a roughly four hour flight ahead of them and Duo planned on spending it catching up on some much needed sleep. After take-off, he leaned his head back against the headrest, closed his eyes and sighed tiredly, begging sleep to come.

"Must be very difficult for you," Relena's soft statement crushed his dreams of a restful nap and Duo opened his eyes again, blinking tiredly. He turned to face the young girl sitting in the row next to his; both had taken the widow seat on opposite sides of the small plane. She was staring down at her hands, which were resting against her lap, looking miserable.

He regarded her quietly for a moment, noting her sad demeanor and felt his heart go out to the girl. After all, she had just realized she had lost her best friend to a callous jerk like _his_ Heero – a guy who didn't take her subtle flirtations kindly as his naïve son had probably done. A harmless flirtatious undertone was almost always present between friends of the opposite sex. The young teenage girl probably didn't even realize she was teasing his son, but she must have known that he had fallen for her and she was used to Heero's reactions to her being a certain way. Now when she was actually trying to gain the boy's attention, she was hitting the brick wall that was _his _Heero, getting her ego bruised, which got her thinking about her friend.

_Good_. Duo didn't mean to gloat, however he was upset with Relena for never caring for his son the way she seemed to feel for _his_ Heero. The minute she had laid her eyes on the original Heero, the girl was back to acting like her alter-self – suddenly infatuated with the boy – and that pissed Duo off, mainly because she was mirroring a similar yet ill feeling churning in his own chest. He too was grateful to have the original Heero back; so thankful that he feared it might mean that he would chuck his son aside in a heartbeat if he could have _his_ Heero back for good. He hated himself for feeling this way, for wishing for something he shouldn't even consider, and he was angry with Relena for doing the same. That just pissed him off! His son liked her, but all she had ever considered him as was a friend. Now she was all over him – the original him, that is. What – his son wasn't good enough for her? Did she have to go after his (would be) lover here too?! Was he actually _jealous_?! Heero was his _son!_ He was a boy two decades younger! And yet... _God!_ He hated this so much. This was wrong on so many levels! Perhaps it was a good thing that _his_ Heero would be gone in two days. This was getting confusing.

"I try not to overthink it," Duo lied to the girl, trying to act like the responsible adult and comfort her. But Relena saw straight through his pitiable lie.

"I can't imagine what it must be like," she whispered sorrowfully; "losing your lover but gaining a son... or losing your son but regaining your lover... all in the same person." She let out a tragic little laugh and turned to face him with a pair of troubled blue eyes. "It's impossible to even imagine."

Duo offered her a small smile. "Humans are highly adaptable creatures," he told her; "we can learn to live with just about anything – from sleeping in the gutter to unrequited love..."

"He said he knows me," she mumbled quietly, lowering her eyes coyly to the floor; "...from the original timeline."

"He does," Duo confirmed carefully, speaking slowly.

"What am I to him... there?" Relena asked, looking up at him with pained blue eyes.

Duo stared at her in a stupor for a moment, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He had to take a moment before he could answer:

"That depends," he chose his words carefully. "Right now, from his perspective, you're probably an inspiration. I know for a fact that he placed you on a pedestal right from the start."

"He said I give him hope..." Relena mumbled thoughtfully, having difficulty to believe that the callous teenage boy currently flying the plane could ever regard her in such a manner. She bowed her head down sorrowfully. "The other version of me must be... very different."

"You're both made of the same stuff," Duo assured her with a warm smile; "the stuff of greatness," he added quietly, a sad twinkle in his eyes. "You had Heero hooked from day one."

The girl turned to him, curious. "How did we meet?"

"By accident," Duo let out simply, shrugging;  
"as all good love stories go..." he taunted with a smile. "It was like it was meant to be." He sighed, turning to stare at the seat in front of him.

"The three of us go way back, at least from my perspective. You were there the night Heero and I first crossed paths during the war. It was a mess from the very beginning," he chuckled, smiling wistfully as he recalled the fateful encounter that had established their difficult _"love triangle"_; that evening on the docks twenty years ago, when he had shot Heero, mistaking him for Relena's attacker, and thus thrusted the three of them into a long and taxing triangular relationship.

"Later on... well... things changed," he continued; "_Heero_ changed, and... The two of you became friends. Good friends. So good, that I was always jealous," he admitted uneasily, chuckling. "I mean, don't get me wrong – Heero's loyal to a fault, but I... I couldn't help it. I always suspected that he wasn't strictly gay. Heero has a lot of love in him... the strong and indiscriminating kind. He sees past trivial things like gender. He just... loves. Wholeheartedly, unconditionally. Which means he didn't have eyes solely for me, but for you too. I lived with this fear that one day he'd wake up and realize that you're... so much better than anything I could ever hope to offer him."

The young teenage girl looked away, embarrassed. She turned to the aircraft window, gazing numbly at the ocean. "I must disagree," she murmured bashfully, "I don't think I could ever go to the same lengths you did for the one you love. You love strongly too. You'd do anything for love."

"You see, that's exactly what I'm talking about," the man insisted; "You'd never do something so _incredibly stupid_ like changing history."

"And that makes me better?" She spun around to face him and asked with demanding eyes.

"That and so much more," Duo admitted reluctantly, shrugging his shoulders in a helpless gesture. She seemed to be expecting a more elaborate answer, and he struggled to give her one:

"Well, it's just that... God... you're barely _sixteen_, so anything I might say right now might come off as either creepy or illegal, but... I mean... You're a fucking _princess_, yeah? And you grew up into a fine young woman, Relena. As for me, I'm just... well, let's just say I ain't the shiniest penny in the pond. He could have done much better for himself, but for some reason he chose me. I guess I always felt that it was a mistake and that one day he would realize that it should have been you."

"Says who?" She questioned skeptically, quirking an eyebrow; "Your _Inferiority Complex_?" She teased with a smile. "I'd imagine that doesn't quite sit well with your current _God Complex_..."

"Story of my life," he laughed bitterly; "I'm either up or I'm down, I'm nothing or I'm playing fucking _God_. Never a middle ground for me... always caught between two extremes." He turned to face the window, looking sadly at the endless blue ocean below. "Fucking _Bipolar_..." he sighed; "...used to drive Heero nuts."

He turned back to Relena, smiling miserably at the girl – tears brimming his cobalt blue eyes. "He needed someone like you – levelheaded, calm. You were a good friend to him, Relena. Through good times and bad. He could always come to you. I never appreciated that, but I should have. He always had someone to rely on thanks to you, especially when I was the source of his heartache. I'm sorry I wasn't much help to you when he died. I was a mess... but you were hurting too."

Even though his words were meant for a different Relena, from a different time and place, she accepted them humbly, feeling that the man needed to say them and she was his only chance to let it all out. This was his only chance for closure, after all. In two days the Heero he once knew and loved would be gone from his life once again. The least she could do was let him apologize to her, if that's what he felt he should do.

"I'm sure I understood," she assured him gently and then added a soft: "Thank you for being honest with me, Mister Maxwell."

He laughed sheepishly, shaking his head. "So weird hearing you call me that..." he mumbled with an awkward smile and Relena smiled back.

"Were we on first name basis?"

"I used to call you _Princess_ just for a tease, but basically... yeah. First name basis. Don't forget, we were the same age once..." he smirked, and Relena smiled back.

"In that case, thank you, Duo."

"Nothing to it, Princess," he replied with a warm smile.

Suddenly, the plane jolted roughly, losing altitude for a short moment before it steadied. Relena gasped, alarmed, and placed a hand to her heart. Duo jumped out of his seat and hurried towards the cockpit.

He flung the door open, revealing the small dual-controls cockpit. Heero was seated at the helm to his left, holding the yoke steadily. Everything seemed to be in order.

"What happened?" Duo asked and took a seat in the empty pilot's chair to the right.

"Turbulence," Heero grunted without tearing his gaze away from the windshield. Duo turned to look out the window, at an endless blue sky – not a cloud in sight. He turned back to Heero, frowning.

"Just _one_ bump on the road?" He asked skeptically, not buying Heero's excuse. "Don't they usually come in threes?"

Heero sent him a sharp sideways-glare and then fixed his eyes on the windshield again.

"Bad weather doesn't just disappear, you know," Duo continued nonetheless. He studied the boy's face closely, taking note of his pale and clammy skin and the feverish look in his eyes.

"You sure you're alright?" He asked worriedly; "Want me to take over for a while?"

"I'm fine," Heero maintained and then coughed; a fit of uncontrollable chesty coughs he struggled to contain. He took his hands off the helm to cover his mouth, coughing loudly. Duo turned to hold the other W-shaped control yoke controlling the plane while Heero struggled to get his breathing under control. The boy was wheezing badly.

"You're relieved," Duo told the boy harshly; "get in the back, get a drink of water. We'll be there shortly."

"I said I'm _fine_," the teen insisted stubbornly, glaring at Duo angrily. The man scoffed dismissively.

"Heero, we've had this argument every winter for the past _nineteen years_," he informed the boy haughtily, stifling a smile; "You're sick. You _always_ get sick, every God damn winter. Now step aside and let me fly the damn plane before you fly us all to our fiery deaths."

Heero scowled heatedly at the man, refusing to leave the pilot seat. "I do not – _cannot _– fall ill," he claimed.

"Pfft!" Duo rolled his eyes at the presumptuous remark. "You just keep telling yourself that, Heero, but like it or not, Earth's winter gets to you every single time. It's been like that since you were eight, and I know firsthand that it's gonna keep on being like that in the years to come."

"I haven't been sick a _day_ in my life," Heero contended and Duo realized that there might be some truth to his claim, because unlike his son who came here when he was a little boy, _his_ Heero hadn't been to Earth before now. AC 195 was his first winter here; he simply didn't know of the effect Earth's bacteria had on him, not yet that is. From where he stood, the boy believed himself to be indestructible. Ah, the arrogance of youth...

"Yeah well, you'll just have to take my word for it: Earth bugs get to you. You can blame J for never letting you play outside. You never got the chance to develop an immunity, I guess. It's nothing serious, but you're the worst patient I know. Back in the day, you gave me hell whenever I even _suggested_ you should get your flu and pneumonia shots, but since you became my kid I made sure you did every winter. I never got around to it this year, so... you're sick, Heero. Trust me. It's only gonna get worse. Now go lie down – get some rest. We'll be there in one hour and I need you up and running if we're gonna do this thing. I told you we're gonna do this on _my_ terms."

The boy stared at him blankly for a moment, processing. Finally, having no valid arguments to offer, he let out a quiet grunt and got up, leaving the cockpit grudgingly.

Looking out through the windshield, Duo smirked to himself, shaking his head in amusement.

* * *

A little over an hour later, they arrived at the Winner naval platform far off the American northeastern seaboard. There, and much to his surprise, Heero soon discovered that while Duo did say that he'd be joining him on this mission, he had failed to mention exactly _which_ version of him would be joining; a question to which the answer became apparent once they were standing opposite of the smirking face Heero knew all too well – the face of the self-proclaimed _God of Death_: Gundam pilot Duo Maxwell, 15.

"Well would you look at what the cat dragged back in!" The young braided pilot taunted nastily the moment he laid eyes on Heero. "I thought your _daddy _took you home and tucked you in already!" He laughed tauntingly, sending his older counterpart an offensive look of disapproval. The man was standing a few steps behind Heero, along with a very upset-looking Relena.

"Da fuck you doin' back here, _skinny-ass_?!" He snarled nastily in Heero's face, his fierce cobalt-blue eyes glowered at the boy standing in front of him. His answer, was a punch to the face.

"Whoa!" Junior exclaimed, staggering back and holding his throbbing cheek. "Da fuck?!"

"That was your _only_ warning," Heero growled dangerously, his tone flat and as ruthless as the glowering menace in his glaring blue eyes.

"That wasn't a _warning_ – that was the first_ shot!_ A warning-shot is one you _miss on purpose_ – **_asshole!_**"

Heero swung another punch at him, but this time the boy dodged his fist.

"Consider yourself warned," Heero muttered dryly, smirking at the stunned teenage pilot. "I don't miss."

Junior gaped at him, stunned. "Man, that thing really fucked you up in the head. Da fuck has gotten into you?"

"A Gundam pilot," Relena, who was standing beside Duo Sr., said as she took a step forward to stand next to Heero. "This isn't Heero," she explained; "not the Heero we know, anyway."

"Should I be sitting down for this?" Junior mumbled, confused. He turned to Heero, studying the other boy carefully with a frown on his face. "You do look kinda..." he mumbled as he circled around the tense teenage boy, running his eyes up and down his rigid posture while taking note of his completely different body language and the stone-cold look in his eyes, as if this was a completely different person standing before him...

Putting two and two together, the braided boy grinned cunningly.

"Well what do you know!" He called out in extravagant delight; "If it isn't the _Big Cheese_ himself!" He mocked, completing a full circle around Heero so he could look him in the eye again, smirking nastily. "Here to save our collective asses, are you?"

"Watch it, _Maxwell_." Heero scowled warningly. "I might not possess the necessary restraint to keep myself from killing you in this timeline," he warned, leering darkly.

"Oh, I like you better already," the braided boy said and sent Heero a suggestive wink.

Furious by the boy's careless flirtation, Heero nearly pounced at him, but Duo Sr. stepped in, stopping him.

"Settle down you two," he ordered harshly. "This isn't the time for games."

"I am _not_ taking him with me," Heero declared callously, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Who said I_ wanna_ go?" Junior hissed back spitefully. "I ain't going _nowhere_ with this _homicidal maniac_! I happen to know all about you, _wonder-boy_, so forget it!" He turned to glower at his senior. "Da fuck is he doing here, anyway? What happened to _skinny-ass_?"

"They... sorta switched," his senior answered gravely. "ZERO," he explained with a sigh. "It did something to him."

"Well isn't _that_ a convenient explanation for just about _anything_..." the braided boy mumbled jokily with a roll of his eyes. He turned to look at Heero again and examined the boy more closely, frowning at the disturbingly stoic expression on a face he had read like an open book up until now. There was a harshness in those eyes he hadn't seen before, and quite frankly – it gave him the creeps._ This _was the alleged _love of his life_?!

Finally, heaving a dramatic sigh and resigning to his fate, he turned to ask Heero: "So, what's the plan, wonder-boy?"

"We're taking Relena to see Zechs. Deathscythe is the decoy."

"My buddy's still being upgraded," Junior informed him in an all-knowing manner. "It needed a _major _overhaul after your _sugar-daddy_ here botched it all up!" He accused, gesturing rudely with his head towards his senior. He then crossed his arms over his chest to mimic Heero's boastful pose, snarling nastily at the other boy: "It ain't ready yet."

Ignoring the boy's sassy comments – being used to his foul insinuations – Heero regarded Junior calmly.

"I can have it ready by nightfall," he stated, keeping his arms folded over his chest and smirking arrogantly at Junior. The braided boy snorted skeptically.

"There's a _whole team_ of CLO engineers who've been working on it day and night for the past couple of days," he said conceitedly; "no way you can do better than those guys. They're _the best_."

"I'm better."

"Ch!" Junior spat the sound out insolently, turning to his older counterpart. "Would you listen to him?!"

Duo just smiled knowingly at the boy. Relena seemed a bit discomfited.

Junior turned back to glare at Heero. The other boy just kept looking at him, arms still crossed over his chest, looking quite full of himself.

"There's _no way_ you can have Scythe ready by nightfall," he insisted.

"_Try me_," Heero said, sneering shrewdly.

Duo Sr. turned to Relena, who'd been watching the two cocky teenage boys, her lips slightly agape. The chemistry between the two was undeniable, and she watched them with troubled blue eyes.

"Well then, Princess," Duo addressed the girl with a wily smile; "Looks like we're gonna get you a kingdom."

Relena tried to smile back, but it faltered.

* * *

[1] Krav Maga (_lit._ "contact combat") is a self-defense system developed for the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) and adopted by the US Marine Corps, that consists of a wide combination of techniques.

* * *

**I will post more next weekend.**

**Elle**


	25. Act Three - Part 6

**Paradox**

**Act Three**

**Part 6**

Heero sneezed. The sudden sound echoed loudly within the massive metal hangar in which he sat propped on top of the massive torso belonging to the 02 Gundam. The large mobile suit was laid on its back at the center of the hangar, surrounded by diagnostic equipment and various heavy-duty machinery. Its brand-new, sleek black, gold and white plating gleamed under the large fluorescent lights dangling from the tall ceiling. There was no more sign of the improvised patch-up work Duo (the adult one) had done in order to keep the battered MS operational for battle.

The Gundam's fearsome design had been upgraded, presenting the newly improved XXXG-01D2 Deathscythe Hell Gundam, which was better adapted for space combat. It was an exact copy of the upgraded 02 Gundam he had seen Duo – the one from _his_ timeline – take with him when he escaped from the Lunar Base during the Treize Faction uprising. Not surprisingly, this world's Dr. J had upgraded the Gundam in a similar fashion.

He tried not to think about the relief he had felt when watching the surveillance footage assuring him that Duo was still alive when he took off with the Deathscythe Hell Gundam, but the irksome feeling remained in the back of his mind, nagging him constantly. He ignored it, unwilling to deliberate what it might mean. He had to keep his heart out of the impossible situation he was currently in and focus more on the fact that he had a mission to complete and a Gundam that needed to be brought back into operational condition in only a handful of hours.

Like its predecessor, Deathscythe Hell specialized in stealth and close combat. The new Active Cloak armor mounted on its shoulders was meant not only to improve the suit's defense when closed, but also allowed it to turn invisible. The Active Cloak armor also served to increase the suit's mobility, as it could also function as wings when opened. Heero was hard at work to get the system up and running, since both its cloaking and mobility features were crucial to his current mission. He sat on top of Deathscythe Hell's ribcage-like chest plates, facing the Gundam's open cockpit door bulging from the center of its abdomen, while he worked on a laptop computer resting on his lap.

It was late in the afternoon and, after hours of having to work under both Duos' watchful eyes (which, not surprisingly, annoyed him more than it should have and hence hindered his efficiency), Heero was now working alone. The adult version of Duo was the first to depart. For some reason it helped Heero feel more at ease while he worked. The man did drop by again a couple of hours ago with a tray of lunch, but he just placed it somewhere and left. The meal had remained there since, still untouched.

Duo's younger counterpart, however, refused to leave him be, but he was hardly a bother. The braided young pilot had protested heatedly against letting a stranger mess with his Gundam without supervision, insisting that he should help (i.e.: keep an eye on Heero). Heero strictly denied the offer and, after hours spent idly watching him work, his petulant observer must have gotten bored and finally decided to leave him in peace. To be frank, Heero didn't even notice he was gone, until he was back:

"Hey you!" Junior called as he approached the massive Gundam. Heero ignored him and kept working. [1]

"Hey – I'm _calling _you!" The braided young pilot persisted. He stood at the bottom of the massive mobile suit, looking up as he called: "Yo! Wonder-boy!"

Irritated, Heero turned to face him, looking down at the braided boy with cold blue eyes. Feeling another sneeze coming up and jeopardizing his stone-hard expression, he rubbed his nose and turned back to face his laptop, sniffling quietly. He continued to work, hoping the boy would get the hint and leave him alone.

"You're cutting it pretty close to that silly deadline of yours," the braided boy reminded him, grinning cockily. "You sure you won't accept my help?"

Heero's attention remained devoted solely to the small computer, his fingers tapping the keys rapidly.

"Here I am, _Mister Nice Guy_, letting you lay your skinny little hands all ova my buddy, but you just _brush _me right off!"

Still clicking away and keeping his gaze solely on the laptop, Heero replied calmly: "You've used this argument before."

"Huh?" Junior blinked, stupefied.

Heero's stopped what he was doing and turned to look at the boy with cold blue eyes.

"Stop repeating yourself," he reproached; "It's annoying." He turned back to his work.

"Well, that's a joke!" Duo (Junior) scoffed and stepped close to Scythe, preparing to climb up its waist. "You haven't even got the _parts!_" He complained as he climbed up to sit on a narrow pelvis-plate, his legs dangling down in the air.

"The best engineers in the _world_ couldn't repair machines without _parts_!" He turned to look up over his shoulder, snarling at Heero. "Mechanics need _parts_ for repairs," he said, kicking the Gundam lightly to make a point; "see what I'm sayin'?"

Heero continued to ignore him, so Duo slumped down in a dramatic gesture of defeat.

"Da fuck did I agree to do this shit with him anyway?" He muttered to himself, shaking his head; "He's antisocial, thinks he's all that and he hardly _speaks!_ _Argh!_" He grunted, waving his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I miss the other guy!" He moaned, leaning forward on both arms. "You got such a _gloomy_ personality, why won't you just _give up_ and stop _pretending _to be human?"

"Hey!" Heero called out, looking down at him intensely. That just made for _two_ different versions of Duo accusing him of being less than human! Heero was _furious_. How dare they?! And why was this bothering him so much?!

"Hmm?" Duo turned to look over his shoulder again; "What is it? You're too late if you think you're gonna ask for my help. You said you can do it by nightfall, so do it! I'd be the first to gloat when you fail."

Heero let go of the keyboard and spun his body around to face Duo with a solemn expression.

"Could you just shut the hell up?" He asked, his tone coming out more aggravated and whiny than he would have liked. It was hard to control that bubbling _something_ in his chest, especially around Duo; namely _this_ Duo. The other one's presence was disturbing, but this Duo just made him so... so— so _mad!_

"Must you always be so _talky_?!" He complained, scowling at the other boy; "I can hardly ever get a word in with you!"

Duo stared at him in disbelief, probably offended, before slumping down again, discouraged.

"Yeah, sure... Forgive me for _interrupting_. Geez. Talk about a stick up the ass..."

"We've already had this conversation six months ago," Heero told him grimly and turned back to his work; "I don't appreciate having to ask this of you _twice_."

"And I don't appreciate having to take orders from a stupid _brat_ who doesn't know _shit_ about this war!" Duo glowered at the other boy.

"You're talking about the other me," Heero dismissed his claim coldly.

"Well, so are _you!_" Duo exploded, fuming.

Touché. They were at a stalemate.

The two boys stared each other down for a tense moment, before Heero looked away.

"Fine," he muttered, turning back to the laptop. He hated to admit it, but he would rather have this Duo hanging around than the other, older and hence disturbing version of him. _This_ Duo was familiar: This Duo didn't keep looking at him funny or proclaimed his undying love to him. _This _Duo he could handle, even when emotions tended to leak out of this body-that-wasn't-really-his without his consent. At least _this_ Duo didn't make him feel so out of his game, just... really annoyed. There was a tension in his chest whenever he was around the braided boy, tight as an iron knot, which made him edgy and easily irate. He wondered if this was how he should have felt around Duo in his own timeline, if J hadn't put a leash around his emotions and limited them to dim numb sensations he could hardly ever interpret. Funny thing was, that now that those feelings burned in his chest as fiercely as wild fire, he _still_ couldn't identify them!

"Lend me a hand," he finally permitted, sighing as he resigned himself to the awkward situation; "It might help speed things up."

Duo snorted, getting up. "I'm tellin' you man," he muttered as he climbed up Scythe's abdomen to reach Heero, "you can't fix the damn thing till the boys get those parts fitted!" He stood next to the cockpit, planting his hands on his hips. "We're talking _miracles_ here!"

"It'd take a miracle for _you_," Heero replied, smirking conceitedly; "But _I _can handle it," he continued in the same arrogant manner he had six months ago. There was actually something enjoyable about having the same conversation again with Duo. Could it be that he had missed their useless banter and exchange of snippy puns?

"Yeah, well, I may be a mere_ mortal_," Duo snarled nastily as he did back then, "but if the damn engineers who _built_ the thing can't do it, then what makes you think—"

"I'm not an engineer," Heero interjected blatantly; "I'm a pilot, and as such I'm nowhere as near as a perfectionist as they are when it comes to building this machine. I'm willing to overlook certain things, do without certain systems. I don't need it to be perfect or even at one-hundred percent. I just need it to get us to Hatteras Island with a functional cloaking system."

Duo seemed stumped. "And you can do all that in just a few more hours?"

"Yes," Heero asserted and pointed at the laptop. "See this here?" He said and Duo circled around the cockpit so he could lean over Heero to peek at the laptop.

"All we have to do is get this auxiliary system up and running. It'll compensate for the lack of power to the mirroring-plates by sending it through the backup relays. They're much simpler to set-up."

"Backup relays?" Duo marveled, turning to Heero with curious eyes. He seemed impressed.

"Yes," the other boy nodded to confirm. "Usually they're the last thing to be fitted and tested, which is why your engineers haven't gotten to it yet. Right now, it should be our primary objective."

"So we can basically solve this with a few wires and a couple of spare batteries?"

"Yes."

A wide smirk tugged at Duo's lips. "Well-well, Wonder-Boy," he placed a hand on Heero's shoulder; "Maybe there's something to you after all."

"Congratulate me once we're done," Heero mumbled uneasily, moving away from Duo's casual touch. Duo always touched him like that, never once realizing how _awkward_ it made him feel. Back where he came from, the uneasiness was simple to ignore. Here, however, it ignited such a _burn_, that Heero found himself wriggling uncomfortably to get away.

That alien burn from before was back with a vengeance, sizzling riotously in his chest. He felt his cheeks flush with heat; the unbearable hotness no doubt induced by his rising fever. He had to hurry and finish this up so he could get some sleep before departure. Whether he liked it or not, this damn body-that-wasn't-really-his was succumbing to some kind of illness. He just hoped this body had what it took to see the mission through no matter what.

* * *

While up on the main deck the two teenagers worked on the Deathscythe Hell Gundam, three decks below, Dr. J and Duo (Sr.) were working on the Wing ZERO Gundam in hopes of figuring out a way to send Heero's consciousness back across the two timelines. Since they were practically dealing with what J had cynically had called _"Science Fiction"_, the two were pretty much shooting in the dark. Add to that Duo's inherent resentment towards the old man, collaboration between the two was one _bumpy ride_. So far, they hadn't made any progress trying to reactivate the ZERO System. It remained dormant since the original Heero's arrival. After hours of work, all they'd managed was to get the Gundam's basic subroutines online, but the System itself was completely frozen.

After crawling under the cockpit's consoles and having lodged himself deep into ZERO's main computer core, Duo was trying to get the damn thing working by changing one of the electronic boards with customized circuitry J and he had fashioned earlier. He lay on his back, a flashlight strapped to his head and a precision electronics screwdriver held between his lips, for both his hands were occupied with pulling at a jumbled mess of colorful electric wiring. The tangled wires, in return, tugged on his disheveled hair.

"Fuck _DAMMIT!_" He cussed, twisting and pulling his hair through the entangled wires. "I _HATE_ this shit!"

"Find the EPSD system!" Dr. J called from outside the cockpit. The winged Gundam was lying on it back inside the D-3 hangar and J was standing by its side, looking at a large computer station connected to the cockpit. Various diagnostic programs were running on a number of monitors, and the old man was studying each of them carefully while sipping coffee out of a paper cup.

"Plug it into one of the auxiliary side ports!" He shouted so the younger man could hear.

Deep inside the Gundam, Duo rolled his eyes.

"Easy for _you_ to say..." he grumbled between pressed lips, still holding the screwdriver in his mouth. He twisted uncomfortably, his body wedged painfully inside of the terribly tight space under the cockpit. He was getting too old for this... Plus, he thought he was done taking orders!

"I do all the work while the old bastard bosses me around... Goddamn _prick_... I wanna see _you_ jam your wrinkled ass into this fucking _peephole_, then we'll talk!"

He wriggled his way through the thick forest of dangling wires, pushing with his legs to burrow deeper into the belly of the beast.

"On second thought," he heard J's muffled voice calling from the outside, "Try connecting it directly to the main port!"

He snorted. "If I can fucking _get_ to it first!"

"It should be right under the CUV controls!" The old man replied smugly and Duo's blue eyes practically _screamed_ murder.

"I know where it is, old man, I just can't _get _to it!" He snapped and tried to squirm further under the consoles. "I'm not a scrawny teenager anymore, alright?! Fuck, dammit! I'm too old for this shit!"

He heard Dr. J laugh and swore to wring the old man's neck the minute he squeezed out of that damn cockpit.

It took some tricky maneuvering, which involved getting his hair tangled so badly he swore he would have to chop it off just to wriggle out from under the cockpit, but he finally managed to find the circuits he was searching for and got started on replacing them with the new board. Moving his hands around was tricky and he had to lift the screwdriver with his mouth, which earned him a careless electrocution.

"Fuck!" He shrieked, furious. "Goddammit! _SHIT!_"

Outside, Dr. J smirked in amusement and settled in a chair facing a large monitor. A single word was displayed on the screen – glowing green letters blinking slowly:

**PENDING...**

"Any luck?" J called towards the cockpit and sipped some more coffee. There was some rattling, and quite a lot of cursing, before Duo called out: "Done!"

J turned back to the monitor, but the word was still flashing persistently:

**PENDING...**

"Nothing?" Duo asked as he wriggled back out from under the consoles.

"Not a thing," he heard J reply and pushed out completely, looking pissed.

"Shit," he grunted and hauled himself up to his feet using the console for support. "It shoulda worked!"

He climbed out of the cockpit and jumped down to the floor, approaching J so he could look at the monitor himself:

**PENDING...**

Exhausted, Duo plopped himself down into one of the chairs by the console and glowered sullenly at the word blinking repeatedly on the screen:

**PENDING...**

"That's it," he sighed. "We tried just about anything. Nothing works. The damn thing won't start!" He exclaimed in frustration and kicked the nearest computer. "We ain't _never_ gonna figure this shit out!"

The old man regarded him evenly, sipping his coffee and completely unbothered by meeting yet another dead end. "I disagree," he said calmly; "We've ruled out every possible malfunction, which leaves us closer to a solution than ever before."

"Yeah, how's that?" Duo muttered tiredly and reached for a second paper cup, resting by the monitor. It was full of cold coffee, but he drank it anyway, wishing it was whiskey. He glowered at the monitor with hostile blue eyes:

**PENDING...**

Nothing they had done for the past eight hours had made any difference. After nearly a whole day of useless work, they hadn't even figured out _what_ the system was even _pending_: a command? A reboot? An imminent systems crash? What?! Was the ZERO System itself pending this unknown factor, or was it a different subroutine that was causing the whole system to freeze up? They were completely locked out of the system. Whatever they did, they couldn't reset it. Wing ZERO's computer systems were _stuck_, and there was no IT guy in the _universe_ capable of figuring out why. After trying everything they could think of, Duo finally settled for staring hatefully at the screen:

**PENDING...**

**PENDING...**

**PENDING...**

"What if it's the link?" He suddenly wondered.

Dr. J, who was sitting on a small chair at the other side of the large computer console, still sipping his coffee, looked up at the younger man.

"You mean to the other side?" He asked, frowning.

"Yeah," Duo nodded and straightened up eagerly. "Think about it – what if we've been looking at it all wrong? What if the problem isn't here, in _this_ system, but in the other one?"

"The other Wing ZERO?" J muttered thoughtfully and stood up. He walked back and forth for a moment, thinking. "You might be onto something here..."

Duo couldn't fight the stupid grin insisting on tugging his lips upwards. Finally, some progress! He stood up as well, looking keenly at the older engineer.

"What if our ZERO is waiting for the link to be reestablished?" He offered; "What if it's holding onto the signal so it won't be lost? Maybe that's why it's stuck!"

"Because it's holding onto the other Heero," J completed his line of thought, nodding eagerly.

"Exactly!" Duo confirmed, unable to control his triumphant smile. "I mean, this is a human consciousness we're talking about here – think of the amount of data flooding the memory banks! It's taking up all of ZERO's computing resources. The damn thing is stuck because it's still processing the link."

"But this would mean that ZERO is continually broadcasting the feed..." J thought out loud, still pacing; "It never ceases feeding Heero's other consciousness into your son, which means..."

"Which means he can't get back control of his own body!" Duo finished for him, exclaiming animatedly. "He can't take control because ZERO is overriding him, to keep Heero... the other Heero... alive. There's not enough room on the system. It needs... an external storage system."

"Hmm," the old man mused, stroking his gray beard. "If this is true, then the system won't unlock unless it can safely terminate the link and disconnect Heero." He turned to Duo, looking pleased. "In that case, perhaps all we have to do is wait for the system to reactive on the other timeline," he suggested and Duo's jaw fell slack with realization.

"Holy fuck! _That's_ why Heero's only been here for three days!" He called out. "Fuck! How the hell didn't I see this earlier?! It's so fucking obvious – I shoulda figured it out!"

"What's that?" The old man scowled, not following.

"Three days after we escaped from the moon, some crazy OZ lieutenant tracked me down on L2," Duo explained breathlessly; "He was hunting us pilots down, trying to study the ZERO System. He took the whole damn colony hostage and made me pilot it for him so he could collect data. [2] That happened on—!" He gasped; "It's gonna happen tomorrow night!"

"That sounds quite... plausible, actually." Dr. J muttered thoughtfully; "You might have just figured out a way to send the original Heero back to his timeline."

"Maybe, but what about me–– I mean the other me–– eh... the one _over there?_" Duo asked, frowning worriedly. "He's the one who's gonna be the one using ZERO, not Heero. Heero is on Earth, unconscious!"

"We don't need him to pilot ZERO when it reactivates," J argued. "Think about it, Mister Maxwell: If Heero has to be using ZERO to link with the system, then how can his consciousness still be present inside your son while he's away from that cockpit? Evidently, ZERO acts as a conduit. It is broadcasting across dimensions, which is why it is stuck, pending. Once the transceiver on the other side is activated, the loop will be complete again and Heero will be able to return to his own body, no matter where he is here or there."

"And what about the _me_ on the other side? Won't I be affected?"

"ZERO would most likely keep you separated, like incompatible software. I suspect that you would experience it as some form of temporary insanity as the system overloads. It should be able to handle the strain, though. Once Heero is in the clear, the system should restore you."

"That's a lot of _shoulds _and _woulds_ I'm hearing here..."

"It's the best I have to offer you, I'm afraid. Need I remind you that up until a couple of days ago, this was all purely theoretical science? It should be alright, though."

"What makes you so sure?" Duo asked skeptically and Dr. J smirked slyly.

"It happened before, didn't?"

The old man had a point, Duo realized. It _had_ happened before. Trant took him to a testing site outside the L2 colony and made him fight a small battalion of mobile dolls, which were waiting to attack the colony at the first sign of trouble from him. There wasn't much he could have done, but to do as the psycho asked. He fought the dolls with Wing ZERO.

Not too long into the battle, he started hallucinating and eventually lost control of the Gundam and of himself. He went berserk, obliterated the mobile dolls and then he fired at his home colony – blowing it up! He had destroyed countless lives in a fit of raving madness, flooding the universe with darkness and death. Fortunately for him, it was just another deranged vision produced by the ZERO System; a version of a future that never happened... at least not in his timeline.

Unable to handle the enormous guilt, he had snapped out of the terrible vision screaming in terror, burdened by the unfathomable sensation of having doomed the entire human race to a burning death. ZERO had shown him what it truly meant to be the God of Death. He had lost his mind to the System, and now he knew why.

Duo shuddered just thinking back on that awful prophecy; the sick feeling never really faded away. How could it? Real or not, he had felt the responsibility for having committed _genocide_.

"Have you ever considered why you love Heero so much, Mister Maxwell?" Dr. J's sudden question tore the younger man away from his fatalistic musing. He looked up, frowning when he noted J's cunning smile.

"What?"

"Have you ever wondered why is it you would rather mess with the whole of time and space," the old man smirked; "than accept a world without him?"

"What do you mean _why _I love him?" Duo burst in frustration, scowling angrily at the old man. "What kind of a stupid question is _that?!_ I don't question my love for Heero!"

The elder engineer leered shrewdly, unimpressed by Duo's romantic declarations. "I am not questioning your love, Mister Maxwell," he assured the man; "I am questioning its... uniqueness. Its rather... _extreme_ nature."

"There is nothing extreme about it," Duo grumbled; "obviously, you've never been in love."

"I disagree," J countered haughtily; "The romantics might call you two _soul mates_," he snarled cynically, "And scientists would perhaps argue that you two share a unique chemistry. That is, what is love if not electric nerves communicating with tiny explosions through our brains?"

"Yeah..." Duo let out warily, his forehead creasing as he tried to guess where the old man was headed with his presumptuous claims; "I guess. But how is that any different than any other two people in love?"

"Falling in love is much like abusing drugs," J reasoned; "It is an addictive and mind-altering experience. We get used to the chemical and electric reactions it elicits in our brain. Love essentially_ rewires_ the brain. It becomes an integral part of who we are. Now, imagine what happens when two psyches meet in their rawest form... a melding of minds, if you will."

"Are you seriously suggesting _ZERO_ made us fall in love?!" Duo exploded, furious. "A _machine?!_"

The old man laughed. "Of course not!" He scoffed. "No one can force you to fall in love."

"But you're saying that I'm... addicted... to Heero."

"And he to you."

"Because of ZERO."

"Perhaps."

Duo snorted, rolling his eyes. "You have no idea what you're talking about, old man." He muttered, pacing back and forth. "Took us _years_ to realize we wanna be together!"

"But during that time... were you ever truly apart?"

Duo stopped short. "Uh..." he let out dumbly and J smirked, pleased.

"What I am saying, Mister Maxwell, is that when Heero's consciousness travels back to the original timeline while you're using ZERO on the other end... well," he shrugged; "what better way to find your soul mate, than to brush your soul against his?"

"I don't love Heero because of some crazy _machine_!"

"No," the old man stated grimly; "you love him because you've seen him like no one else ever would, and you liked what you saw, I imagine. And you will stop at nothing to ensure that he would live, because you two are connected in a way no other human has ever experienced. My point, Mister Maxwell, is that you're here today because this had _already_ happened! You are connected to Heero because of what is going to happen tomorrow. You were uploaded into the System simultaneously. It is this connection, this unprecedented rewriting of one human psyche onto another, that has led us to this moment – creating a closed circuit that is bound to repeat itself for all eternity. Your love for Heero... the uncanny connection you two share on the most basic existential level... it has us all caught in this endless loop, waltzing back and forth through time and space!"

Duo inhaled shakily; he was beginning to see the old man's point. "So what you're saying is... that we can't just _wait _for ZERO to reactivate on the other side. We have to do something to break the loop first."

"Precisely," Dr. J nodded curtly.

"You wanna stop us from connecting. Keep us from... from falling in love?" Duo asked anxiously, his voice shaking. This couldn't be happening! How could his love for Heero be so devastating? It couldn't be true!

Suddenly, he was so angry.

"You already tampered with Heero's head once!" He glowered angrily at the old man. "You–– you made it _so hard_ for him to feel, and now you wanna do it _again!?_"

J sighed, shaking his head. "That wasn't me, but I'm willing to take responsibility, for I've done the same to my young protégé. Decisions had to be made," he muttered regretfully, looking Duo in the eye; "for the greater good. Decisions much like the ones we have to make today." The old man seemed almost sympathetic. "Decisions carrying grave consequences, I'm afraid."

"What kind of consequences?" Duo murmured uneasily, fearing this would be the end of the road for Heero and him. J's answer, however, brought on a far more drastic sense of dread, because what the old man said next was exactly what had tormented Duo when he had lost his mind to the ZERO System during Heero's return; the same terrible word that had echoed in his mind at the time... perhaps it had even resonated from Heero himself. Could it be that this _godawful_ word had bound them together when their minds melded? That word... that _abysmal _word that has been weighing heavily on his soul ever since:

"Genocide," Dr. J proclaimed and Duo's heart sank painfully.

"I was afraid you were gonna say that..."

* * *

Despite having started off on the right foot for a change, the two teenage pilots soon discovered that they worked _awfully_ together: Heero giving out snappy orders and Junior brashly resisting them. Obviously, the braided pilot was having a hard time accepting that Heero was also a pilot and no longer that clueless kid he had met at the beach a few days ago. They butted heads over every little thing, disagreeing on everything – from Duo's insistence that they work with music, to how to approach just about every single engineering problem they encountered during repairs. What should have been a four to five hour job had turned into a late night of splitting hairs and exhausting squabbles. By midnight, Duo was ready to call it quits:

"That's it! I've had it!" He declared dramatically, throwing a wrench to the floor. "This shit is _never_ gonna work! It was a nice idea, Heero, but let's face it – you lose. The only thing that's _ever _gonna turn invisible around here is _me_ – because I'm _leaving_!"

"Fine – _leave_," Heero – who was standing above him on top of the Gundam's chest – snapped back. "At least then I'd be able to think without your constant jabbering!"

"Oh, _you_—you—! I—! I can't _BELIEVE_ I would fall for someone like you!" Duo nearly exploded, his face red with anger. "No way! No way would I _ever_ fall for your _skinny little ass!_"

"Right back at you!" Heero found himself barking back, furious. The flames in his chest sparkled back to life, blazing madly and sending out whiplashes of anger and hurt that constricted his throat until it hurt. Why was he getting so worked up about this? He's had his fair share of disagreements with Duo before, why was this one any different? Why was his body shaking and burning all at the same time? Was it the spiking fever, or that unbearable tightness in his chest whenever he caught Duo looking at him with those seething blue eyes..?

"Urgh! What was I thinking – working with you?!" Duo ranted on, waving his hands animatedly; "Changing the whole Goddamn _universe_ for you! I mean, what the hell?! Da hell is that shit 'bout us fallin' in love, huh?! No way, man. No _fucking_ way!" He shook his head furiously, his braid swinging behind him; "Not a chance!"

"Clearly, we didn't know any better," Heero agreed, "Now we do."

"Well, thank God for that!" Duo snorted; "Saves me a whole lotta heartache, that's for sure! Christ, I can't _wait _for J to find a way to get rid of you already! I didn't think it was possible, but you're even _worse_ than that other Heero guy!" the boy accused hatefully, "You're both so full of yourselves, it's like..." he sighed theatrically, shaking his head slowly this time.

"Forget it, man... I'm callin' it a night," he mumbled and turned to leave. "This was a waste of time..."

"Duo, wait!" Heero called after him, jumping down from the Gundam. The braided boy stopped and spun back around to face him.

"What?" He grumbled; "It's too late for an apology, Wonder-Boy," he muttered disdainfully, even though it was pretty obvious Heero wasn't chasing after him for an apology. Ignoring his cocky words, Heero approached until he was standing tensely in front of Duo.

"The other Heero," he huffed, panting loudly through his gaping lips due to shortness of breath; "do you mean your Zero-One?"

"Yeah," Duo frowned at him distrustfully, almost appalled; "Why?"

"You mean you know him here too?" Heero asked anxiously and Duo's brows creased into a deep scowl.

"By reputation, mostly," he replied gruffly; "Enough to know him as a total _jerk_."

"Where is he?" Heero demanded urgently; "Can I contact him?"

The braided boy laughed. "You can sure as hell try!" He cackled cynically; "But unless you know a way of summoning _ghosts_, I don't think you'd be able to call him in for this mission. Nice thought, Wonder-Boy, but no go. Sorry, man, but I'm all you've got."

"Do you mean he's..?"

"_Oh yeah_. Dead as a doornail!" Duo snickered. "Went out with a big _BANG _a few months back."

"How?" Heero asked, troubled.

"Suicide by Gundam," Duo replied simply, shrugging. "Took his orders _way _too seriously and went _kaboom_ along with his suit in the Siberian Plain." He rolled his eyes. "Fucking idiot."

Heero looked away uneasily, staring at Deathscythe Hell quietly for a moment.

"All he cared about was the mission," Duo continued, snorting mockingly; "J told him to blow Wing up and he just... _did_. Blew himself right along with it, the Goddamn _freak_."

"...maybe he didn't have a choice," Heero mumbled, still facing the Gundam. His Prussian blue eyes shone mournfully.

"There's always a choice," Duo maintained bitterly; "Trust me, there are better ways to quit this job,"

"...not if it's all you know," Heero whispered bleakly, casting his gaze down to the floor.

Duo studied him quietly, frowning pensively.

"Anyway," he continued after an awkward moment, "Zero-Three barely got away with his own life and Zero-One's body was picked up by OZ. _That _was a crappy day."

Heero looked up again, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You just... left him behind?"

"Yeah, well, he _was_ dead," the braided boy grunted, crossing his arms defensively over his chest; "Not much we could have done about _that_. It's not really our thing, anyway."

Heero wasn't sure how he felt about that. He was still trying to get a grip over the myriad of raw emotions constantly coursing through him. All he knew for sure was that, in his timeline, Trowa had no way of knowing that he was alive after he had self-detonated in Siberia, but he still took what he had believed was his dead body to be properly buried. Was that what was making him so uncomfortable hearing about the demise of this world's 01? He probably wouldn't have survived if Trowa hadn't intended on burying him and then discovering that he was still alive. You don't leave a man behind. That was what he had learned that day; that was what Trowa had taught him, and so much more. Trowa had nursed him for over a month for no other reason than to help him in time of need.

Ever since he came to Earth, he had learned of compassion in wartime; beginning with Relena's brave attempt to shield him from Duo's bullets at the docks, to Duo coming to rescue him from the Alliance hospital, Trowa's devotion through hard times and even at this very moment when Quatre was taking care of him while his body lay empty of consciousness somewhere in _another_ _universe_. Those were the kinds of things they did for each other where he came from. That was why he came for Duo a couple of months ago when the 02 pilot was captured by OZ. He couldn't have just left him in enemy hands; it wouldn't have been right. But here...

"So you mean..." he mumbled, looking sadly at Duo; his chest was aching...

"On C-102..."

"They left me for dead, yeah," the boy let out bitterly, sighing. "I mean, I didn't expect a rescue or anything. It's not how we do things around here, so... yeah. If it weren't for your da— I mean, if it weren't for _me_... that is, the _other_ me... I... well, I basically had to save my own ass. We don't do that for each other, I guess."

Now his emotions were clear. Heero felt very sad to hear that. He recalled how – back on C-102 – Duo's eyes shone wretchedly in the darkness of his prison cell, resigned to his bitter fate as he waited for him to pull the trigger. His Duo didn't expect to be rescued by him either, which was why he couldn't pull the trigger while looking into those pained blue eyes. There was understanding there, and it had mortified him. Duo was ready to forgive him for what he was about to do; he was willing to forgive because he thought that it was all he was capable of doing.

Heero didn't know how else to explain it, but seeing Duo quietly accept the execution had changed... _something_. He didn't want to be that person Duo thought he was. He had hesitated, and Duo's soulful blue eyes had filled with a tiny hope, giving him such a wretched and wounded look that he will never forget. The unexplained compassion he had felt for Duo that day meant something; he never knew what until now, but he was beginning to suspect that maybe... just _maybe_... maybe one day he will find out what.

"Anyway," Duo continued, shrugging casually, "since Mister _Perfect_ kicked the bucket, we've been one hand short. And with Zero-Five still being held on the Moon and me getting my ass whopped, well... it's been a real struggle."

"Do you have a plan?" Heero asked, trying to empty his face of emotion and regain his infamous deadpan composure, for he had a feeling his intimate reflections might be showing on this face-that-didn't-really-belong-to-him. He would have liked to blame it on the subconscious presence of the _other_ him, but...

"Not really, no," Duo admitted, chuckling uneasily; "but we're trying to piece something together based on what your—er—on what that other me knows 'bout your timeline. How about you guys? I sure hope you're doing better than we are here..."

Heero turned back to face the Gundam behind him. "I wouldn't say that exactly..." he murmured quietly, his gaze far away; "We lost someone too," he said in a pained voice; "Trowa's dead... Quatre killed him."

"So I guess you guys aren't much better in the whole teamwork department, huh?"

Heero turned back to face Duo, his gaze upset. "It wasn't Quatre's fault," he asserted carefully; "He would never..." He cast his gaze down, hesitating. "He was driven by..." He stopped, sighing as he gawked at the floor miserably. "He wasn't himself."

"Yeah, I know," Duo muttered scornfully; "Dude hasn't been himself here either. Took his daddy's death pretty hard." He paused and shook his head in disappointment. "But to kill Trowa..."

Heero looked up again, pinning Duo's gaze firmly. "It wasn't his fault," he repeated starkly; "He cares for Trowa deeply."

"He does?" Duo marveled and then frowned. "Why— I mean... Since _when_?"

"Since he stopped denying it," Heero replied simply and turned to look intently at Duo. "We might not have the liberty to show it, but we do care for one another. We watch each other's backs. We would never leave one of us behind."

"Heh," Duo smiled sarcastically, "Must be nice in that _fairytale universe_ of yours. Love all around."

"I wouldn't go so far as to call it that," Heero objected and spun around abruptly, walking back to the Gundam.

Duo followed him. "I sense a _'but' _coming here..."

"No 'buts'," Heero stated flatly, but the look in his eyes suggested that he did have something more to say. Duo regarded him for a moment, studying the boy closely as he climbed back on top of the large Gundam and began setting things up to resume working.

"Do you care about me?" Duo then asked bluntly, still standing at the foot of the large Gundam, and up above him Heero froze, holding a screwdriver in his hand. He didn't turn to face Duo, just kept staring down numbly at the mess of electric wires and electronic boards at his feet.

"You said you guys care," Duo pressed on anxiously, calling up at Heero; "Does that include you, or are you like _our_ Zero-One?"

Heero's fist clenched tightly around the screwdriver.

"Do you believe what that other me said... about us ending up together?" Duo's voice was quieter now, more hesitant.

Heero stared at the pile at his feet, his vision blurring until all he could see was a blob of colors instead of wires.

"Maybe..." he whispered numbly, "I don't know."

"Are you _gay_?" The braided pilot demanded to know, standing tensely and looking up at the boy standing a few feet above him. Heero still wouldn't turn to face him.

"I don't... _think_ so..." he murmured slowly, staring unseeingly at the mess at his feet. He thought about Instructor Davis, about gawking at the man's sweaty abs in wonder. He thought about Nurse Calvin and her bootylicious curves, how thinking about her used to make him so hard... But that was all in the past. He could never... not after what J had done to him... could he? One day, maybe..?

Heero heaved a small sigh and then let out a hopeless: "I don't know."

"But you don't rule it out?" Duo challenged anxiously, and Heero wasn't sure what to say. Moving slowly, he turned to face the other boy, looking down with miserably blue eyes.

"I can't rule it out," he replied simply; "It hasn't happened yet, but it might. It already has."

"I thought you like that Relena chick," Duo smirked cockily. "At least it _looked_ like it with that _other _you," he shrugged and Heero frowned at him thoughtfully. He had dim memories of rainy nights spent stroking himself vigorously while lying in his bed in that blue room, looking at the rain falling against his bedroom window with unseeing eyes, picturing her in his mind's eye as he brought himself over the edge thinking about her skimpy little dresses...

He twitched uneasily. Those weren't his memories. Those weren't his desires. He never thought of Relena that way. He never thought of _anyone_ that way, not in a very long time, let alone jerk off to carnal images flickering in his head...

He thought about Nurse Calvin again, of how thoughts of her curvy body had coaxed many of his early erections and even drove him to experiment with masturbation. Sometimes, he thought about Instructor Davis and his great abs too. As a preteen, he was confused by these strange genderfluid feelings and often chose to ignore them, but it was no easy feat. Thanks to J's illicit methods, it became easier to disregard what his flesh desired. His libido had wilted away along with many of his emotions, forsaken for the sake of a greater cause. But now, in this untampered body, he was once again facing questions he hadn't dealt with in years, questions he wasn't even sure if he was supposed to know the answer to at barely _sixteen._..

"So which one is it?" Duo enquired cockily, glaring up at Heero with seething blue eyes; "Boys or girls? Me or her? Who gets your mojo working?"

"I don't know," Heero let out quietly, his expression, torn. "I never thought about it. It never seemed to matter."

The braided boy smirked; a dark rascally smile somewhere between insolence and amusement. Moving with the elegance of a dangerous feline, he quickly climbed on top of Deathscythe Hell, joining Heero by the open cockpit door. He stood less than a foot in front of the boy, leering in his face.

"Well, aren't you the _least_ bit curious?" He purred in a disturbingly suggestive tone that made the blazes in Heero's chest sparkle back to life in a most uncomfortable way. He stumbled back a step, trying to get away from those daring blue eyes.

"I can see it in your eyes, Heero..." Duo whispered provokingly, advancing like a hungry predator. Heero's defenses kicked in and his fists clenched readily at his sides. His arms felt strong – muscles taut and ready to snap into a fight – but his knees were far too weak. He struggled to maintain his composure, fighting to stand without falling to his knees. The fire in his chest was running rampant, flames blazing around his heart, sending it tumbling towards the unknown...

He watched edgily as Duo rose to claim it. Moving backwards, away from him, Heero finally bumped into the cockpit's open door which pointed up at the ceiling like a wall. Duo now had him cornered, and as he watched the braided boy continue his advances, he did nothing to avoid them. He remained with his back against the heavy metal door, heart hammering in his chest and his arms spread at his sides, deliberately leaving himself wide open to attack. _Curiosity killed the cat_, he remembered the old saying as he looked into Duo's dangerous blue eyes and his breath shortened with excitement, much like it did back in Nurse Calvin's room. He watched Duo, their gazes locked, until the braided boy was standing an inch from him, their noses nearly touching. Duo grinned manically.

"Don't tell me you're not curious..." he whispered seductively and eyed Heero with sultry bedroom eyes; clearly over-acting to make a point.

"You and me..." Duo leaned towards him, pressing Heero against the cockpit door by pushing against his chest.

"...two star-crossed lovers... drawn to each other across time and space..." He stopped, smiling wistfully. Despite his cocky demeanor, Duo's eyes seemed so sad...

"Doesn't it make you wonder..." he murmured softly and leaned into Heero's anxious face, his hands moving down to pin both of Heero's wrists against the metal door. He clenched his fists tightly around the delicate flesh, a feral gleam twinkling in his eyes. His lips curled into a haughty smile. "Aren't you curious to know... if _sparks_ would fly..?"

And then he pushed Heero roughly against the cold hard Gundanium door and pressed a firm kiss to lips, his tongue immediately seeking to breach past the boy's tightly sealed mouth.

The world was swallowed in explosive white. Heero stiffened, his whole body going rigid. His first reaction was to resist the invasion, but the burn in his chest grew too hot – irresistible – urging him to lean into Duo's kiss. Hesitating, he opened his mouth slightly and Duo's tongue plunged right in. He moaned; a pathetic needy sound of which he only became aware after hearing it leave his mouth.

Sneering against Heero's lips, Duo let go of his wrists, freeing his hands. And just like that, Heero's hands traveled up on their own accord, desperate for contact. He wrapped them around Duo, gripping the fabric at his back tightly. He had no idea how starved he'd been, so hungry for human touch... for the incredible feel of body-to-body contact. He drew the braided boy closer, kissing him ravenously. Embarrassing little moans escaped his mouth as the kiss deepened, but he didn't care. He felt so liberated! It was like years of his pent-up sexual desires were being released, gushing out of his mouth with every moan, poured into a single kiss. How badly he had longed to let this demon back out!

Images blasted through his mind, changing rapidly: Instructor Davis' sweaty biceps as he flexed his arms during combat practice. Nurse Calvin's deep cleavage as she bent towards him to administer a shot. The wind flowing through Relena's skirt, exposing a sinful amount of skin as she stood over him at the beach (that one wasn't even his!). Duo's sweat-soaked red tank top clinging to his taut torso after a basketball match played under the sweltering sun... The potent scent of his sweat... the sunshine gleaming in his silky long hair... All of these images accumulated in his mind like steam in a kettle and he was about to _burst_.

_Shit_; he was getting hard, brazenly grinding his hips against his fellow pilot who in turn dug his fingers into his pelvis bones, pinning him closer.

Fueled by this sudden unbridled passion, he poured all those years of restraint and frustration into Duo's mouth. Their kiss became wet and sloppy, desperate with need and impulse. Sparks did indeed fly and a part of him was screaming how terribly _wrong_ this was (!), but Heero just shoved it back where it belonged – back where all those childhood-memories-that-weren't-even-his lay dormant – ignoring it. This wasn't wrong. How can it possibly be wrong when it felt so _right_? Duo loved him! He had changed _history_ for him! He had toyed with the very fabric of _the universe_ to save him!

So yeah, he was kissing Duo Maxwell and that couldn't be more right! It felt like the very _Earth_ shuddered and shook from their kiss – what more proof did he need? The Earth was moving under his feet and he loved every second of it!

So caught in the passion of their kiss, it took the two teenage boys a few seconds to realize that the violent rocking wasn't merely a_ metaphorical_ sensation. The world _was_ shaking – the rig!

Gasping in alarm, they pushed away from each other promptly, mouths and bodies disconnecting. Panting through swollen wet lips, they gaped at each other, flushed with embarrassment. Then, the rig shook again and a loud explosion bombarded the air, followed the deafening roar of jet engines – mobile suits!

The two boys jumped off the Gundam and ran out of the hangar.

Outside in the cold night air, people stood in the rain leaning over the metal railing surrounding the large naval platform, watching the black ocean ahead. Explosions lit up the black night sky along with flashy streaks of light. A battle was taking place in the horizon, an aerial MS chase by the looks of it.

Duo reached the railing first, but Heero was lagging a bit behind. The breathtaking kiss and the quick dash that followed were too much for his ill body. He stopped a couple of feet before the railing, bending forward with his hands on his knees while wheezing loudly, coughing and gasping for breath. His whole body burnt, and not with the searing passion he had felt but moments ago. He closed his eyes, feeling terribly dizzy and faint. Then, he heard another thundering jet engine fly directly above him, and sprung back up, looking at the heavens with wide blue eyes.

Rain sprinkled his pale face as he studied the cloudy sky, searching for the source of the sound while panting strenuously through gaping lips. It was hard to breathe...

"It doesn't look like we're under attack!" He heard Duo's voice behind him. For a split second, he was confused, because Duo had been running ahead of him, but then he realized that this was the _other_ Duo speaking, the adult one, and his breath hitched as his heart somersaulted in his chest. The kiss flashed in his mind's eye and flooded him with an unbearable amount of guilt. What was he thinking, kissing the _other_ Duo? By all accounts, he didn't even _know_ that boy! That Duo wasn't the one he had fought alongside with these past few months; he wasn't the one he had rescued from C-102 and he certainly wasn't the same Duo who broke every rule of the universe trying to save him from an untimely death!

And why did the other Duo kiss him anyway? Was it just to satisfy his morbid curiosity? Was it some careless experiment he had performed on a whim? So typical of Duo, being so terribly irresponsible and doing whatever he damn well pleased! But that was all part of Duo's allure, wasn't it? Being able to follow his emotions freely while he remained frozen and confused. That almost promiscuous freedom – _Duo's _freedom – was so fucking _hot_. Drawn like a moth to a flame, he wanted to be near such heat; he wanted Duo to thaw that icy layer J had placed around his heart, and that _kiss_... that terribly _sinful_ kiss felt like it could lift the spell, but could it really?

His throat constricted tightly. How could it? After all, Duo just _used_ him, and he had played right into the braided boy's game, moaning pathetically like some eager teenage girl...

Shit.

Damn this accursed body-that-wasn't-really-his! Then again, the mind to which this body truly belonged had _shrilled_ in protest of the iniquitous kiss, while he on the other hand had plunged straight into it, eager and willing to learn what it felt like to be consumed with passion...

Double shit.

"Heero, you alright?" Adult-Duo asked, concerned, and Heero realized that he was gaping dumbly at the man, his jaw slacking open so he could breathe heavily through his mouth. Judging by the look on Duo's matured face, it was clear to him that the man could tell he wasn't feeling very well at the moment. In fact, he felt queasy... dizzy and faint.

Triple shit.

"Yeah," he breathed the word out faintly, breaking eye contact. He couldn't look the man in the eye. How could he? Heero felt that he had betrayed Duo by kissing his younger counterpart. Keeping his head down, he coughed, and then mumbled: "I'm fine."

"What's going on?" Relena joined them, approaching Duo from behind. Heero looked up again. The girl was still wearing that short purple skirt from that morning, revealing her long white legs, now slick with rain. He couldn't help but stare; fascinated by how the rig's bright projector lights reflected on her glistening legs. Heat flushed his cheeks despite the freezing rain pricking his face. The world was spinning. Those smooth white thighs... Duo's concerned blue eyes... And that hot kiss still tingling on his lips... It all burned so much it hurt. This was getting out of control. He... He had to find his focus again. He... he... he had to... to...

"Heero!" He heard Duo and Relena yelp his name in alarm and suddenly felt himself caught by two strong arms. Giving in to the darkness, he allowed his eyelids to flutter shut and closed his eyes, sagging into Duo's hold. He had to rest... had to reset or he would be forever lost inside that _mess_ blazing inside of him.

**TBC...**

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**A/N:** I'm still working on Part 7, but I should complete it in the next two weeks or so. Expect an update soon enough! ^_^

Elle

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[1] Referencing episode 4, "The Victoria Nightmare", of course.

[2] Episode 32: "The God of Death Meets Zero"


	26. Act Three - Part 7A

**A/N:** Since it's taking me WAY too long to write this chapter (sorry!), and also because it's an unusually long one, I've decided to post it in two parts. I'm still working on its second part, but I hope to complete it soon enough.

Elle

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**Paradox – Act Three – Part 7 - 1/2**

Heero woke up lying in a bed. He half-expected to find himself in his blue bedroom, but instead he was staring dazedly up at a blurry brown ceiling and gray walls. He deduced that he was still on the naval platform, probably in one of the crew-quarters. From the corner of his eyes he could see that someone was sitting next to him, but he didn't turn to face that person yet. First, he had to figure out which version of him was waking up to this impossible reality.

Staring numbly at the filthy ceiling, he recalled waking up to his new life in a similar gray room, also located in some shabby crew-quarters. It was right after Duo had picked him off from the streets of L3-X18999. He remembered what it had felt like to wake up to his first day as Duo's son and how for the first time in his life he had realized that he was safe, that he had someone to take care of him amd fix all that had been broken.

But Heero also remembered a different version of that day. He remembered the version where Duo never showed up and he went with Dr. J, leaving L3-X18999 to live his new life as a weapon of mass destruction. He remembered what it had felt like to wake up to his first day of training, how quickly he had realized what he had gotten himself into and how he had no one to take care of him even when he broke over and over again. Which was why, when he finally did turn to face the person sitting at his bedside, he was surprised to see that it was Dr. J and not his fath— not Duo – the _adult_ Duo, not the one he had... kissed.

For a moment, he just stared dumbly at the old man while breathing heavily through his gaping mouth. His breath was labored and wheezy. His chest heaved painfully with each shaky gasp. His muscles felt thick and liquefied by fever, his skin moist and his hair sticky with sweat. He lay unmoving, gawking blankly at the man who had tortured and trained him. Thing is, that he couldn't see that man. Suddenly, all he could see was a brittle and weary old man sitting hunched over his walking cane, instead of the fearsome commander he had learned to revere and obey. The change of perspective was astounding, leaving him dumbfounded.

Dr. J must have noticed that he was awake, for he ceased staring at the floor at his feet and lifted his head up to face the ill boy on the bed.

Heero's jaw dropped further open. J wasn't wearing any glasses. Instead, the freakish eye-goggles were dangling from his human hand. Heero stared into a pair of naked black eyes he had never seen before; the person behind the dreadful mask was just a human, an old man.

The old man's wrinkled face twisted into an amused smirk as he noted Heero's reverential staring.

"So you're still here," he muttered gruffly and stood up with a groan, leaning heavily on his cane. He put his goggles back on, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. Heero blinked, rousing from his stupor.

"Sorry to disappoint," he snapped bitingly, but his weak voice cracked despite his attempt at being nasty. He made up for it by glaring at the man standing over his bed.

"Quite the opposite," J said, leering down at him; "I was hoping we might finally get a chance to chat."

"I have nothing to say to you," Heero grumbled resentfully and turned to glower at the ceiling instead. He was panting noisily; speaking demanded too much of his labored lungs.

"Your alter-ego was much more receptive," Dr. J admonished, obviously amused.

"Good for him," Heero grunted and heard the old man snicker. He whirled his head aside to face him again, scowling angrily. "You find this funny, old man?" He questioned with insolence he never dared display so openly before; it was out of his control.

"Don't you?" J retorted with a cunning smile and Heero scoffed, rolling his eyes as he turned back to face the ceiling: also out of his control.

"_Disconcerting_ would be a better way of describing it," he muttered in dismay.

"I would imagine so," the old concurred and took a seat again, heaving a tired sigh as he settled heavily into his chair. He was demonstrating weakness Heero had never witnessed before. He frowned warily as he studied the ceiling. What was J trying to pull?

"Why are you here?" He asked harshly; "Where's Duo?"

"Asleep, I believe," J replied simply. "He didn't leave your side all night, but your fever broke about two hours ago and he finally got a chance to rest." The old man smirked, quirking an eyebrow as he added: "Or were you inquiring about the _boy_?"

The kiss flashed through his mind again. Feeling uneasy, Heero looked away and said nothing.

"I thought so," he heard J say, but he wasn't sure what the old man might have meant. He sighed, closing his eyes wearily.

"What about the battle?" He asked feebly, his voice wavering with a soft sigh.

"Oh, you've missed quite a show," the old man chirped, laughing. "OZ were chasing a rogue MS. They shot it down and then left."

"Merquise..?" Heero mumbled, his eyes still closed.

"Yes," J confirmed, nodding as though pleased that the boy had reached this conclusion so easily. Heero wasn't even sure which version of him did it. He was drawing on his past experiences from both timelines.

"He defected," the old man expanded on his answer; "OZ didn't seem to appreciate it. He gave them quite a fight before crashing on a small island a few miles from here. We picked him up a while ago. He's most likely assumed dead." [1]

Heero nodded slowly, licking his chapped lips. He felt faint, so he kept his eyes closed.

"So he's... here?" He asked quietly.

"He's recuperating in sickbay, under heavy watch," Dr. J verified. Heero listened quietly, processing.

"He's still unconscious, but the damage doesn't look severe. He should be up and about soon enough, which is more than I can say for you, young man," he joked. Heero ignored him. He was used to the old chewing him out when it came to his unfortunate human weaknesses. Instead, he kept his eyes closed and asked:

"Relena..?"

"The girl is wearing the floor down pacing next to sickbay." He could actually hear the smirk in J's voice. "She's waiting for him to wake up," he added and snorted cynically. "Needless to say, your mission is aborted."

Heero nodded his head weakly against the pillow, having already realized that. He coughed and then moaned miserably, feeling terrible. He couldn't recall feeling this sick before. He didn't like it.

"This body..." He rasped miserably, his eyes remaining closed; "It's... too... weak..."

"Naturally," Dr. J agreed, sneering. "I never got my hands on it in this reality." He shook his head in disappointment. "You were running a fever of a hundred and four last night. Gave your father quite a scare."

Heero finally opened his eyes. He turned to J, scowling darkly. "He's not my father."

"Of course not," J apologized with a guilty smile; "I suppose that from your perspective," he added sadly, "I'm the one who raised you."

Heero stared at him long and hard and the old man returned his intense gaze evenly.

"Can you fix it?" Heero finally asked, looking intensly at the man. He was breathing hard, straining as his chest heaved up and down. He fought to contain the persistent coughs begging to come out, feeling his lungs burn as he tried to wear the old man down with his relentless staring.

Finally, J looked away, breaking eye contact.

"It wouldn't be right," he stated bleakly, staring at the floor. Heero glared at him reproachfully.

"What made it right the first time?" He scolded bitterly and was surprised when J looked up at him again with a guilty look on his face.

"It was never right," he said quietly. "Not when I did to you, and not when I did it to him."

Heero regarded the old man for a lengthy moment, frowning thoughtfully. He wasn't sure, but he thought he was recognizing... grief? Or perhaps... regret? He sighed and turned to face the other way, closing his eyes again.

"What did you want to speak with me about..?"

"Sending you back, of course."

Heero opened his eyes. "You've figured it out?"

"Just about." J smirked.

"Then what is there to talk about?" Heero questioned harshly.

The old man looked at him grimly for a moment before he replied: "Consequences."

"I thought you said there won't be any consequences," Heero reminded him coldly; "that I won't remember any of this."

"That's right," J nodded; "and I still maintain that you won't. However, there's a slight chance that your traveling back to the original timeline might set into motion a chain of events with a devastating effect on this timeline."

Heero's brows creased thoughtfully. "Devastating how?"

"In essence, it would be destroyed. Its existence canceled, in fact. It would be as if it had never existed."

"Why?"

"Because time always strives to fix itself," J explained. "And reconnecting the two timelines might give it the chance it needs, so to speak, to put everything back in order. All the improbabilities that _could_ happen, would probably happen to ensure that time, the very _splitting_ of the universe, is fixed."

"And only one universe would remain? One timeline?"

J nodded, his expression grave. "Theoretically, yes. Probably the original timeline, the one you came from, would remain as the sole reality."

"Which means this world would be destroyed."

"Precisely," the old man confirmed with a grave look on his face. "Who is to say that the people of this timeline are less deserving of life than those in the original universe? Both have entire lives and histories of their own. Some might even have different pasts or futures. They are, in a way, completely different people. Cancelling their existence is committing genocide, even if a different version of these people survives. They are still living sentient entities who have a right to life."

"You're neglecting the circumstances of their creation," Heero argued, then coughed weakly. "These people were created by accident. The people of the original timeline aren't morally culpable for their creation, nor for their destruction as separate entities."

"And yet you're the one who will determine their fate," J pointed out from his chair. "As sentient beings the people of this timeline possess the right to live. Who are _you_ to tell them otherwise?"

"Are you accusing me of _genocide_?" Heero groused harshly, his blue eyes glowering. He tried to rise from his pillow, but couldn't. He slumped back down and turned to J, his eyes fierce as he made his argument: "How could I kill people who never would have existed in the first place?" He reasoned.

"You make a valid point, boy," J complimented; "But even if it would be like those people had never even existed, you can't deny that these people currently _do_ exist. I am one them, speaking to you, right now, and I ask you to consider this: Is it morally permissible to kill one version of a person to save or restore to life a different version of this person?"

"You mean me," Heero sighed.

J remained quiet, but the accusation was obvious.

"I didn't choose this..." the boy whispered and turned to face the other way, closing his eyes; "I would have been fine with dying..."

"I know you didn't choose this," the old man granted; "but you're right in the middle of it. You are facing a very difficult dilemma, young man. Even if my alter-self was wise enough to teach you how to deal with the challenging ethics of war, I don't think anyone could have prepared you for this. Is your life worth the sacrifice of billions?"

Heero didn't even stop to think about it. "Of course not," he rasped quietly, keeping is eyes closed as he faced the wall.

"Is it really?" Dr. J questioned.

Confused, Heero opened his eyes and turned to J.

The old man smiled at him softly. "From what I know, you'll be responsible for saving of the Earth. You're the one who'll prevent its imminent destruction. Your life is therefore of paramount importance."

"According to whom?"

"History. Or, at least, the version of history the Duo of your timeline is aware of. If what he says is true, then you won't only be responsible for the destruction of billions, but also for their survival. It balances the scale, don't you think?"

"It still doesn't make it right."

"No, it doesn't," Dr. J almost sounded compassionate. "But if you'd choose remain here, to save this universe from being potentially cancelled, you will be dooming the other universe's Earth. Many people would be lost either way. It's a Catch-22."

"Damned if I do and damned if I don't..." Heero mumbled and Dr. J smiled; he seemed pleased to find that the boy was familiar with the reference.

"I must congratulate my alter-self for a job well done," he mused to himself; "obviously I have done a much better job with you... I always regretted never having my ward read any of the classics."

"I haven't read them either," Heero told him; "but you've recommended Catch-22 just before I got here."

"A wise choice," the man praised. "I must have trusted you to reach the proper conclusions from reading that book. I wouldn't have trusted _my_ Zero-One to do the same."

"Why not?"

J heaved a troubled sigh. "He was a very... disturbed... young man. Sometimes I feared he was enjoying his role far more than he should, more than anyone should. I had created a monster with absolutely no regard to human life, even his own. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, isn't it?"

Feeling awkward under the man's penetrating yet unseen eyes, Heero looked away.

"I told your alter-ego that has kind eyes," J said softly, "and I am pleased to see that you have those same eyes, Heero Yuy. You might be a ruthless soldier, but you are still a kind young boy." He shook his head sorrowfully and exhaled lengthily. "I don't envy you..." he muttered, getting up with the support of his cane; "I honestly don't know what I would do in your position," he muttered, walking to the door. He placed his metal right hand on the door handle, when Heero called: "Sir?"

The old man stopped, smirking to himself, and slowly turned back around to face the boy on the bed. Heero had propped himself up on one elbow and was looking at him tensely.

"What about Duo?" He asked; "Won't he repeat his actions if I were to die again in the other timeline?"

"Probably, yes, if there is nothing to stop him," the old man confirmed. "Maybe he already had. Maybe we've had this conversation a million times over already. Or maybe this is the first loop. Who knows?" He sighed, opening the door and turning to leave.

"Then isn't it paramount that we find a way to sever the loop?" Heero questioned. "Stop Duo? Warn him, at least."

"I don't see how," the old man admitted, smiling knowingly at the door, "but if you could find a way do that, to somehow retain your memories of this timeline, then it would make our sacrifice worthwhile." He opened the door and prepared to step out of the room. Without turning away from the doorway, he added solemnly: "Ethics and genocide aside, I can't think of a worse fate than to be intermediately created and destroyed over and over again, existing for only eight years, until the end of time..."

And he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Heero continued to stare thoughtfully at the closed door long after the old man left.

* * *

Stepping into a dark hallway, Dr. J wobbled tiredly with the support of his cane, shuffling his feet as he walked away. Once the old man disappeared further down the hall, a small figure emerged from the shadows shrouding the empty hallway outside Heero's room. It was Quatre R. Winner, and he was glowering at the closed door with menacing blue eyes.

* * *

One floor up, in another crew quarter section, Duo Maxwell, 35, was lying awake in bed facing his own difficult dilemma. Although he had just been through a rough day and a restless night, sleep still refused to come to his troubled mind. If back in his room Heero was trying to decide whether or not it was ethically acceptable to destroy a whole universe for the sake of another, Duo was trying to figure out whether he had it in him to make a similar sacrifice, but for a whole other reason: was he willing to risk everything once more for a chance to save his Heero? Would he sacrifice his son to save his lover? Would he willingly commit _genocide_?

Dr. J warned him that there would be consequences to reestablishing the link with the other timeline, but he also said that this might be their only chance to mend what Duo had so carelessly broken; to fix the universe by making sure that there won't be any need to split it in the first place. But was he really willing to save Heero in the original timeline and give up on his son – not to mention destroy this alternate reality he had created? And was he willing to give up on loving Heero in order to do it?

His romantic love towards Heero should be inconsequential; he would give it up in a heartbeat if this wasn't a choice between the original Heero – the man he had fallen in love with (why and how didn't matter anymore) – and the boy he had come to love as his own. Losing his lover won't matter in the grand scheme of things, but losing his son...

It was an unimaginable choice; one that went beyond morality or reason, raising questions that were impossible to grapple with:

First of all, both Heeros were living, rational, sentient entities and as a result they both have the right to life. Then again, the original Heero was dead. Not right now, maybe, but he will be. It had already happened. If he regarded the original version of Heero as dead, even if this was a rectifiable situation, he must still recognize that his son was a sentient being with basic human rights and therefore it cannot be expected that his son would willingly choose to kill himself for the sake of another, especially if that person had already died. Though his son was in a way created by the death of the original Heero, he was not responsible for it, hence his death was undeserved.

But Duo couldn't simultaneously defend his son's right to life while ignoring that right in the original Heero. If he had a way of saving his life, didn't he also have the responsibility to see that it was saved? His son was simply a transfigured version of the original Heero, so this couldn't be an issue of two lives against each other, rather only one life – Heero's life. Didn't he say that they were in fact one of the same? The Evening Star and the Morning Star – Venus. Heero was like Venus; just like Venus continued to exist in day or night, Heero would continue to exist in this universe or the other.

To keep Heero's life split in two was, in a sense, harmful to his being. Hence, to join the two – to fix the splitting of the universe – wouldn't necessarily mean that he was destroying one being out of the two, but restoring it to its original state. Heero would live on, so how could his son die?

That argument couldn't hold much water either, because to change the future in the original timeline would be to destroy his son, and to forcibly join the two versions of Heero without his son's permission, would still be murder. After all, there was no denying that his son existed. To erase him would be erasing a whole other person, one separate from _his _Heero. He would be obliterating_ years_ of memories; a whole other life, an entire _childhood _Heero never got to experience in the other timeline. His son was not like his lover. He had different desires, opinions and aspirations, even different love interests (could ZERO really have something to do with that?).

The person Heero had grown up to be in this version of reality would vanish, but would he really be gone? And what about the rest of the people in this timeline, those whose lives remained the same as in the original timeline – if they too vanished here but continued to exist there... was that really genocide? And what of those who _were_ affected by the changes in this alternate timeline and would continue to lead a different life in the original timeline... was that really homicide? Weren't all these people, Heero included, one of the same? Was this indeed a choice between two tangible and different individuals? Who could tell? And who was he to make this determination?! How could he possibly take the lives of billions? How could he just let Heero die again? And how could he possibly take the life of his _own son?_

* * *

One floor beneath Duo's room, Heero was lying in his own quarters, fast asleep. Even his troubled thoughts could not keep his weakened body awake. His sleep was heavy, leaving him completely oblivious to the world. Caught in the webs of this deep healing slumber, the ill teenage boy remained unaware of the intruder silently sneaking into his room.

The quiet golden-haired shadow approached Heero's bed slowly, looking down at the sleeping boy with hateful blue eyes. He stood there a moment, loathing silently as he studied Heero's pale and slack face. The boy was breathing heavily through gaping lips, his lungs straining to draw breath.

Moving carefully, the ill-intended intruder reached to slip the pillow from under Heero's head. The boy's head slumped to the mattress and Heero's eyes snapped wide open just in time to see a big white object descending swiftly onto his face before completely blocking his sight. He recognized the object as a cushion, and it was being pressed down hard over his airways, suffocating him!

Moaning in distress, he writhed and struggled against his attacker, but the arms holding the pillow down over his face were strong and his body was far too weak due to illness. He tried to lift his legs to kick and fight, but his attacker climbed on top of him, pinning him down with all his weight: ankles forcing his legs down and his kneecaps holding down his wrists – immobilizing all four limbs completely. He pushed the cushion down harder.

Heero's torso jerked up in a tremendous jolt, desperately trying to push the assailant off. His lungs, already labored for breath, could not sustain much air to begin with. His struggle was short and useless. He felt the life stepping out of him slowly, quietly... almost peacefully. He never thought he'd go down this way. A part of him wondered if he should be thankful for this, but another part was thinking that it was too soon.

_Not like this... no..._ He wailed internally, not really sure which part of him was so reluctant to die. Images flashed through his head:

The one from when he had won his first soccer match.

The one of him seated behind the yoke of Duo's Cessna.

The one from New York City.

The one from the boardwalk by the beach... and so many other joyful memories – the pictures from the stairwell gallery back home.

Home. He never had a home. He was too lost to belong anywhere, and yet... And yet those pictures, those memories-of-a-life-that-wasn't-really-his, were the only thing he had to regret leaving behind. He hung onto them, desperate to make them his own just so he would have something meaningful to reflect on as he lay on his deathbed, being suffocated to death by someone who was supposed to be a friend.

No! He didn't want to die in this bed!

Desperate, Heero made one last attempt to push his assailant off of him. He jerked his hips up forcefully, but his attacker wasn't letting go. There was no more air in his lungs... and then he was running across a big green field, chasing a muddy white ball. He could smell the fresh scent of soil after the rain, feel the cold wind tousling his hair and droplets of rain spraying his muddy socks while he sped down the grassy field. His feet were little, but fast; the feet of a little boy. He could feel his heart pound hastily in his chest, pumping hot blood through his veins. He felt so _alive_, so careless and free! He ran faster, raising his small leg to kick the ball with all his might.

_Score! Yes!_

A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He felt his body being scooped quickly off the ground and lifted into the air. He was spinning, the world blurring into a whirlwind of color. He could hear Duo's proud laughter echo in his ears. He was also laughing...

Under the pillow, Heero's lips curled up slightly with a small smile. He exhaled one last breath into the cushion pressed against his airways, and stilled. His body sunk lifelessly into the mattress. His fingers twitched once, and then remained inert.

Quatre didn't let go of the pillow until he was certain Heero was dead.

* * *

The late morning sun shone brightly over the grayish-blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Small waves sparkled like diamonds as they shifted calmly towards the horizon. A pack of noisy seagulls had built a dense habitat inside one of the offshore platform's enormous steel legs and were circling the large naval platform, filling the air with their loud screechy cries. Relena stood by the metal railing, watching them.

A chilly autumn breeze brushed by gently. The teenage girl closed her eyes, allowing the cool wind to caress her face softly. It tousled her long blonde hair, golden strands flapping with the wind. Her delicate eyelashes curled upwards gently against the dark stains of fatigue under her eyes. She inhaled the salty air in deeply and released it with a long, jaded, sigh.

After spending the night sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair outside of sickbay, she had finally come up to get some fresh air. The doctors tending to her brother hadn't allowed her inside and she had resigned to pacing the waiting room until someone would be gracious enough to come update her on the Colonel's condition. She wasn't so much as worried about her brother, as she was anxious to meet with him again, this time armed with the knowledge Heero – both of them, actually – had given her.

She was, however, worried about Heero. The boy had collapsed in the middle of the fight which brought Zechs on board, finally succumbing to his illness. She was there when Duo had rushed the boy to sickbay, but with all the commotion around the intense MS chase and the rescue party that was sent out to retrieve the fallen pilot, she didn't get much of a chance to be there for her friend. She knew that his father, or whatever Duo was to him at the moment, would take care of him and thus allowed herself to be absent. She felt the need to stick around to witness events unfold on the main deck, because she had a feeling about that rouge MS pilot; a feeling that turned out to be true once the rescue party returned and they discovered that the pilot was in fact Col. Zechs Merquise. He had deserted OZ, just like Heero told her he had done on the other timeline. There was no more need to convince him to defect, and Relena was thrilled by the prospects this provided. She had to speak with him!

Her brother was unconscious and apparently injured. He was rushed promptly to sickbay by the paramedics and she had followed them anxiously. She met with Duo there; the man was standing next to Heero's bed while the unconscious boy was being fed liquids via an IV line. They exchanged worried looks as she walked past them, following the team of medics pushing her brother's gurney into the trauma room. By the time she was asked to leave sickbay and stop hovering around the doctors trying to tend to her brother, Duo had already taken Heero back to one of the crew quarters, probably to get away from all the commotion and let the boy get some proper rest. She planned on checking up on him soon after she got news of her brother's condition. She had just regained her only living blood-relative and the thought that she might lose him before they've had a chance to speak with all the cards put on the table was more than she could bear.

"Oh, hey, Rey..." Relena heard a friendly voice greet her from behind and opened her weary eyes. She turned to look over her shoulder and saw that Junior was walking towards her, waving with a smile. He wasn't wearing the dirty gray jumpsuit he had worn the night before, so she assumed he must have gotten changed after resting in his quarters for a bit. He must have been the only person on the rig last night to catch a few precious Z's...

"_Rey?_" She frowned at him. "That's the best nickname you can come up with?" She teased with a sly smile, but she supposed that compared to _Skinny-ass_ and _Wonder-boy_ – as he had named each version of Heero – she should count her blessings and simply accept it.

The braided boy smiled and shrugged helplessly. He approached her, coming to stand by the railing.

"So this is where you went off to," he mumbled, looking at the sparkly blue ocean below. "I just came from sickbay and wondered why I couldn't find you there." He leaned over the railing, sighing. "Busy night, huh?"

"Were you looking for me?" Relena wondered, frowning at the braided boy.

"Actually," the boy admitted with a small chuckle, "I was checking to see how the Colonel was doing." He turned his head to face her, smiling guiltily. "And see if I can find Quatre. Have you seen him anywhere, by the way?"

"No, I haven't, sorry," she apologized; "Why?"

"Let's just say dude is _hellbent_ on getting some payback," Junior muttered, shrugging as he turned to watch the water again; "I figured sickbay would be the first place he'd go."

"Why would he come after my brother?"

Junior heaved a sigh and leaned further on the railing until his chin was resting on it, cradled in his folded arms. He gazed at the pack of seagulls with troubled blue eyes, watching them quarrel over pieces of food.

"Quatre's a good guy, but he's been leaning a bit towards the Dark Side lately... He's looking for someone to blame."

Relena turned to gaze pensively down at the water, her own eyes just as sad. She watched two seagulls peck and fight each other until one of them flew off, screeching loudly.

"I feel for him," she confessed, her eyes numb and bleak; "I felt the same way when I lost my father."

"Tried to shoot Colonel Une, no less!" Junior chuckled, shaking his head in mock-admonishment. "If the flame has fallen amidst the cedars, what shall be expected of the bushes along the wall..?" He wondered wistfully, staring sadly at the waves below.

"That's... beautiful," Relena marveled softly.

"Heh," the braided boy let out sheepishly; "just something I heard a wise man say once."

"I gather I'm the cedar tree?" She asked defensively, smirking at the boy. He turned to her with a guilty smile.

"If the mighty have succumbed, how shall the weak emerge unscathed?" He questioned grimly. "Don't stain your hands with blood, Princess. That's what we're here for. This is our cross to bear... and some of us bear it gladly."

"By fighting cruelty, you just create more cruelty," she admonished, her blue eyes fierce. "The violence never stops. This _just _cause you hide behind doesn't make you superior. You fight, but you never really try to rise above the people who are being cruel to you. You become just like them – fighting makes you just as cruel, don't you see? It's a ridicules cycle... and you pilots are right in the center of it. Cedar or not, you can't see the forest for the trees. The truth is right in front of you and you don't see it."

"And that truth is?"

"That when people fight violence with violence, they only end up with _more_ violence, more bloodshed. Don't you see we have to break this cycle? The only way anyone could ever live in peace is if they'd be willing to forgive."

"Some things are unforgivable."

"And some are. Isn't that why you're trying to stop Quatre?"

The braided boy heaved a lengthy sigh, shrugging his shoulders along with it. "Killing on the battlefield is one thing," he mumbled sadly, "but killing a sleeping man in his bed is a whole other ballgame."

"You think my brother's life is in danger?" Relena suddenly seemed nervous, stepping away from the railing.

"I warned the docs not to let Quatre in... let's hope it's enough. He can be a sneaky little bastard when he puts his mind to it. He just looks so harmless, yanno?"

Relena smiled weakly and turned to watch the ocean again. She was quiet for a moment, before asking:

"What about Heero?"

"What about him?" Junior scowled warily, grimacing in disdain. "Quatre ain't got no business with him."

"I mean how he's doing?" She clarified, frowning at the boy's strange reaction. "I haven't seen him since last night."

"Oh," Junior let out and then turned to face the water again, shrugging. "Last I heard he was doing fine. Docs got him doped on antibiotics and stuff... I think I heard them say sumthin' 'bout pneumonia, but he should be alright. God..." he groaned miserably, "I hope that shit ain't contagious..."

"I don't think it's airborne," Relena tried to reassure him. "Usually the infection passes through the exchange of fluids... like a sneeze or sipping out of the same cup."

"Oh _great!_" Junior moaned, shaking his head and burying his face in his hands. "Just what I needed! As if that damn _fountain of_ _mucus_ up my ass ain't bad enough! I can't get sick now! I just got better! Shit. I _knew_ it was a bad idea..."

Relena seemed puzzled, but didn't pry. She turned to face the ocean again, gazing thoughtfully at the waves splashing against the massive steel leg and the pack of seagulls nesting there.

"C'mon," Junior finally pushed away from the banister. "Let's go see how _Wonder-Boy_ is doing," he offered. "Maybe grab something from the mess-hall on the way?"

"Sounds good," she complied, turning away from the railing as well. "I'm famished."

* * *

After stopping in the mess-hall for a quick breakfast of bagels with jam, the two adolescents made their way below deck and across the rig towards the crew quarters on the first floor, chatting about this and that. Relena had packed a small parcel inside a napkin, just a plain blueberry muffin and an apple, to bring to Heero in case he was hungry, along with a bottle of ice tea. Both her hands were occupied carrying these items, so when they reached Heero's room, Junior opened the door for her and curtseyed jokingly to mock a true gentleman, winking at the girl with a mischievous smile. She smiled back and stepped inside the room.

What she found there once she entered, made her gasp in alarm and drop the food and beverage to the floor. Duo turned away from the closed door to see what the fuss was all about, and gasped as well, his cobalt eyes widening impossibly.

They had just walked in on Quatre suffocating Heero with a cushion.

"Quatre – what the FUCK?!" Duo roared and launched towards the blonde boy, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him forcefully away from the bed. The pillow fell to the floor, but Heero was already pale and blue. He lay deathly still, eyes closed.

"Heero!" Relena called out worriedly and rushed to his side. She kneeled by the bed, checking his vitals with trembling fingers.

"Let go of me!" The blonde pilot shouted, pushing Duo back. They wrestled on the floor, spinning and grunting, until Duo managed to pin Quatre against the wall, holding him up by the collar of his shirt. He glowered darkly at the other boy, yanking him forward and then ramming him against the wall again angrily:

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" He shouted, furious.

"Can't you see!?" Quatre raved madly, his wild eyes livid; "He's going to doom us all! Everything we've been fighting for... people we've lost... all for _NOTHING! _He's going to kill us all! This whole universe... this timeline – he's going to destroy everything! That's GENOCIDE_, _Duo! Genocide! We can't let him! We can't let him live long enough to go back! We can't let him go back, Duo!"

"He's not breathing!" Relena cried out, terrified. She turned to Duo with desperate eyes, begging him to do something.

"Didn't they teach you CPR at that school of yours?!" Duo snapped at her, still holding Quatre pinned by his neck to the wall.

Relena looked lost, tears of distress flooding her blue eyes. "I... I'm sorry... I..."

"Oh for fuck sake!" Duo spat and let go of Quatre, throwing him aside. The boy fell to the floor and remained seated there, glaring hatefully at the two.

Marching quickly to the bed, Duo shoved Relena out of the way. "Move over!" He snapped irately and the girl hurried to move aside so he could administer CPR. She watched anxiously as Duo leaned over the unconscious boy, sighing resignedly. He paused for a second before taking the plunge, and then once again found himself with his lips pressed firmly against Heero's.

Seated on the floor against the wall, Quatre watched as Duo tried to resuscitate Heero. He snorted in disdain and pushed off the floor. He left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

"After him, Rey!" Duo barked when he came up for air. He gulped a lungful and leaned over Heero again, breathing into his mouth.

Relena stood there numbly for a second, watching the boy's chest rise sharply with the power of Duo's breath, and then snapped out of her stupor when she recalled what the boy had said about her brother being in danger. She gasped in fright and hurried to run out of the room, going after Quatre.

Duo continued his efforts to breathe life back into Heero. He hurried to climb on top of him, straddling the boy's hips, and began pumping his hands over Heero's chest vigorously.

"No way you're getting off so easily, man! No way!"

**TBC...**

[1] Referencing episode 18 "Tallgeese Destroyed".

* * *

**A/N: ** What? A cliffhanger!?

I know, right?

The second part of this chapter will be posted soon, I promise!

Thank you for your patience. I hope you're still enjoying this story.

Elle


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